Joanna
by scousemuz1k
Summary: A bereaved and unhappy woman makes Tony realise his feelings for Ziva. Team Fic, Tiva-ish eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Takes place while Ziva is visiting Michael in Israel, and Tony has seen his photo. Bartram town and county are complete figments of my imagination. I just needed somewhere to put a sheriff.**

Joanna

By Scousemuz1k

There was no point in staring at the desk opposite, Tony told himself, still less in letting Gibbs see what he was doing. It would only get him barked at, and it wouldn't put Ziva there. He dropped his eyes to the cold case folder open on his desk; there was nothing else to occupy his mind, but his eyes had slid over the page three or four times without a single word going in. His paperwork was up to date, he'd done extra time on the firing range and in the gym. He'd spent most of the weekend helping to coach a youth-club basketball team. In the evenings he'd helped his landlady to tear out the old kitchen in the apartment below his, ready to install a new one. He'd been falling into bed exhausted; and still he was going _crazy._

He flicked the page over to look as if he were doing _something._ All he could think about was that photograph. She was in her homeland, visiting that guy. It was absolutely reasonable that she'd choose one of her own people over him, and he wasn't in love with her anyway…. So why did he feel as if his world had suddenly turned sideways? He sighed, and only realised it had been heard when out of the corner of his eye he saw McGee look up from _his_ cold case. He knew he was in trouble when he couldn't even raise the energy to tease Tim.

McGee decided to push a little. A quiet, miserable Tony was so weird he didn't think he could stand it another minute. If offering himself as a target was what it took, he was ready to stick his head above the parapet.

"She'll be back soon," he said neutrally. And waited to be told to mind his own business. And waited some more.

Tony nodded absently. "Yeah," he said.

Tim looked across at Gibbs, his eyes yelling _"Do something!"_ The boss responded by raising an eyebrow, and looked towards his Senior Field Agent. He opened his mouth to speak, although he was still debating what to say, when his desk phone rang. "Yeah, you got him….." long pause, "You're happy with that?" Another pause. "We're on our way." He put the phone down, and Tim raised his eyes to heaven in gratitude.

"Grab your gear! County sheriff asking for our help."

"_Asking _for our help, Boss? He's one unusual sheriff!" Tony pounced on it, at last having something to distract him. Gibbs fed him a little more, knowing that the tiny DiNozzo revival would be squashed in a moment or two.

"She. Sheriff Joanna Graham." He knew what Tony would say, and Tony obliged, albeit with a fraction of his usual spark. At least he was trying.

"Whoa, Boss! Remember last time you tangled with a lady sheriff? The lovely Charlene? She of the gravely voice and unconcealed lust for you?"

"I'm not likely to forget, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled. I'd sooner be attacked by a piranha. But Tony… Tim….it's a kidnapped child."

"Ah." Tony deflated instantly.

Both of the younger men groaned as they hurried down to the car; each feeling the identical sensation of blood running cold. They each had their own take on such cases, McGee from the point of view of a happy childhood and incomprehension that anyone could harm a child, Tony from bitter experience and a desire to do serious damage to anyone who did. More than that, they both felt a painful empathy with their boss, and hated it when _he_ had to deal with such things. They looked at each other as they reached the car; McGee's eyes flicked to Gibbs' back, and back to Tony, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Agreed. We keep an eye on him.

"D'you want to call shotgun?" DiNozzo asked quietly. "You're probably more calming than I am. If you can stand his driving, that is."

Tim was surprised, but nodded. For Tony to give way on _anything _was rarer than blue food, but hey….

"What are you two dawdling about?"

"Nothing, Boss, we were just –"

"DiNozzo, just get in the damn car. McGee, call Ducky and tell him to join us. And let Abby know where we're going." They obeyed dutifully. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at his SFA disappearing into the back, but said nothing. Tony knew that Gibbs knew what they were up to; he also knew the boss would never say anything about it, but the message had been sent, and acknowledged.

"Fill us in, then, Boss," he said from the back seat.

"Marine Corporal Joel Saxon, on leave from Iraq. Eleven month old son, Owen, taken from the house during the night. The parents didn't hear a thing; they only found he was gone when they got up this morning. It was the Corporal who suggested bringing us in, with our resources, apparently he has great faith in us. Anyway, the sheriff agrees. She sounds like a sensible woman. Wants to stay on it though – and we know how much local knowledge helps in a case like this. McGee, when we get there, set up links with Abby asap, and install a wire tap on the Saxons' phone."

"Does the sheriff think ransom, Boss?"

"Don't know yet, but let's be ready."

As they sped into Virginia, Tony realised that being left alone in the back of the car was probably not such a good idea; when he wasn't thinking about the missing little boy, he was thinking about Ziva. She hated cases like this too; she'd go all hard and businesslike and pretend not to care, but she'd lost a sister, and seen so many children not live to grow up in her homeland. Her homeland… where she was right now… Get a bloody grip, DiNozzo, you've got a child that needs you.

-----------------

They knew at once which house to focus on; it was almost opposite the county headquarters, there was crime-scene tape already set out, and there was already a TV outside broadcast vehicle outside it. Gibbs decided to check out the house first, and was promptly set upon by a platinum blonde young woman with a microphone.

"Excuse me? Are you the FBI? Can you tell us anything about the case? Do you think the child was stolen to be sold?"

Gibbs simply took hold of the business end of the mike, and used the woman's grip on it to spin her neatly out of the way. Tony smiled gently at her, that smile that curled his lip up sardonically but never escaped to the rest of his face. His eyes were like cold sea pebbles.

"I really wouldn't bother the boss if I were you. See, he prefers redheads."

"Who don't try to stick microphones up his nose," Tim added. The reporter backed away uncertainly, and the two agents followed their boss.

They were greeted at the front door by a young deputy.

"Special Agent Gibbs? I'm Deputy Andy Vincent. I'm a friend of Joel's as well; Sheriff Graham put me here, while she's co-ordinating search efforts, to support him and his wife, and to wait to see if there were any phone calls. Oh, and to fend off _them_." He jerked his head towards the TV van.

"How did they get here?" Gibbs asked irritably.

"Like as not listened in to our frequencies. We're not letting them get any closer."

"Has there been a phone call?" Tim asked. The deputy shook his head. "Have you set up monitoring equipment?"

"One recorder. We were hoping you could do more."

"Special Agent Tim McGee," Gibbs made the introductions. "McGee will stay with you, and set up what he needs. DiNozzo and I will go and see the sheriff."

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	2. Chapter 2

Joanna

Chapter 2

Joanna Graham was tall, about five foot ten, with the straight bearing of someone who had long ago decided not to try to minimise her height. Her dark brown hair, cut in a shoulder-length bob with a long, wispy fringe, was glossy and neatly kept. She had good bone structure, and large brown eyes, almost as dark as her hair. Tony, who of course noticed these things, thought she was both intelligent and a looker – if only her face wasn't drawn into harshness by lines of tension and strain, and shadows that swirled in those fine brown eyes. He put her age as somewhere within five years of him, in either direction.

She wore her uniform well, he noted, as if to show that being the chief law officer in these parts was something she didn't take lightly; her only concessions to femininity were the well cut hair, a pair of small, square cut diamond studs in her ears, and lipstick. It was a fairly neutral shade, but toned well with her brown uniform, Tony thought approvingly.

As the NCIS agents entered, the Sheriff straightened up from the desk she'd been leaning over, looking at the screen of a computer that was being operated by a man in his sixties. He also rose from what he was doing, and came to greet them; a big man who looked as if he'd played football in his youth, with pepper-and-salt hair, and regarding Gibbs with a blue gaze as sharp as his own.

"Special Agent Gibbs. Joanna Graham, Sheriff of this county," the tall woman said, in a pretty good impression of Roscoe P. Coltrane. The wry, brave attempt at humour wasn't lost on Tony. "You made good time."

"Just Gibbs is fine, Sheriff. Tony DiNozzo, my Senior Field Agent. Our other team member, Tim McGee is with your Deputy Vincent and the Saxons, setting up surveillance." Gibbs' relaxed introduction showed Tony that the boss didn't feel he was dealing with another Charlene.

The Sheriff nodded her approval, and introduced her colleague. "Seth Meiringen, Mayor of Bartram, friend, knows everyone, good man to have on your side. I'll settle for Jo, by the way." Tony listened carefully. Was there the ghost of an English accent there? As handshakes were given, Gibbs wasn't surprised when Joanna noticed his sidelong glance at the coffee machine in the corner. She smiled just a little, and went over and poured, as the Mayor pulled chairs up and invited them all to sit. Then, the vital trivialities attended to:

"OK," Gibbs said. "What have we got?"

Joanna handed him a photograph of a laughing baby boy. "Owen Saxon, one year old in ten days time. Lovely little lad, everyone likes him." Her face, and voice, were intense. "Taken from his cot last night, we have no idea what time. Mother and father, Nanette and Joel, married three years ago, both slept through the night, heard nothing. They feel guilty; they think they _should_ have heard something. They're distraught. Their house, you probably noticed, is a one storey building; Owen's bedroom window at the side of the house appears to have been forced. They've never bothered with a burglar alarm.

"Nobody that we've spoken to in the neighbourhood heard anything either. No strange vehicles in the area that we're aware of so far. The one and only CCTV we have was pointing at _this _building. Not a lot of use. Seth's organising local people for a search if it becomes necessary. We still have lots of people to talk to, all my deputies except Andy are out asking questions.

"The State Police have promised the use of their F.L.I.R. equipped helicopter if needed and lent me three officers too, for as long as they can spare them, and obviously we're keeping them in the picture; but once we knew you were coming we kept the crime scene intact. Although we're very aware that time's important, we also didn't want to damage any forensics for you. The Saxons don't believe they have any enemies, his work in Iraq didn't lend itself to blackmail or coercion. That's where we stand at present - we've nothing to go on. And I _hate _being this helpless!"

It wasn't overly vehement, but both Gibbs and DiNozzo were aware again of the underlying tension. They both saw the anxious look that Seth gave her, and the quick, soothing hand pat.

Gibbs said reassuringly, "Well, there'll be the forensic evidence, and there may be something when all the interviews are in."

"There may, but - and I'm not being negative here - I asked everybody to phone in if anything stood out."

"Sometimes things don't stand out on their own," Tony said.

"I know," Joanna said thoughtfully. "I simply have no idea if I'm any good at making connections. I'm going to have to learn fast."

Gibbs said suddenly, "DiNozzo is. Never known a brain like his for putting random facts together. Ex-homicide cop."

While Tony looked stunned at the unexpected compliment, Seth raised his eyebrows and nodded. "I'm impressed," he said. "We're both impressed." There was a tiny, almost imperceptible flicked glance between him and the Sheriff, but Tony didn't do imperceptible. One thing Gibbs had never accused him of was being unobservant. He was ready to bet that Gibbs had seen it too. He filed it away for future reference, puzzled more by the look that the Sheriff had returned to a man who was obviously her friend. It had been, if such a thing could be, a microscopic furious glare.

"Unless there's something more urgent at the time," the SFA said, "I'll sit down with you and Seth, and we'll go through the interview data. Something'll come up."

She looked at Tony, seriously looked, for the first time. Their eyes met and they studied each other. The big agent's heart lurched at the look in her eyes; he'd seen it looking out of a mirror often enough, he saw it in Gibbs' eyes 'most every day. He'd seen it on Paula Cassidy's face when she was walking round with her spirit fatally wounded after the death of her team, and he had no difficulty recognising it. Pain. Constant, heart-deep, inescapable pain.

The Sheriff bit her bottom lip slightly, and nodded her head. "You too. I _know_," her eyes said. He took a step closer to her, although he didn't know what he was going to say, but Gibbs' voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Here's Ducky with the truck. We can begin the forensic work. Sher - er, Jo, can you take us over and introduce us to the Saxons?"

Seth said "I'll answer the phone. And talk again to NVN. And stay away from Helen - Bloody - Henderson." Joanna gave him a thin, unamused smile as she pulled her gun out of a desk drawer and strapped it on.

Gibbs said "NVN?" and Tony said "Helen - Bloody - Henderson?" at the same time.

"NVN – North Virginia Network; our local TV and radio station. They'll help however they can," Jo said as they left the headquarters. "Helen - Bloody - Henderson, a reporter for a state-wide station, wannabe national network star. Seth loathes her. He ran the town newspaper until he retired, and he believes that journalists should maintain the highest possible standards. I'm afraid restraint, or actually helping to find Owen, are the last things on her mind."

"Ah. We've met," Gibbs said. "She thinks we're the FBI. DiNozzo -" He jerked his head to where the said Ms Henderson and her crew were moving purposefully across the road towards the NCIS truck. Tony's eyes lit up. "On it, Boss!" He moved gleefully to head them off.

Gibbs introduced Ducky; the Scotsman raised his beat-up tweed hat politely to the Sheriff, and lingered a little longer over the handshake than was absolutely necessary. "Ah, I believe you have spent some time in England, my dear."

Joanna's face broke out in the first genuinely happy smile Gibbs had seen from her. "I was born there, Ducky. And you spotted it after just a few words. You're very shrewd."

"Oh, I need to be observant. It's simply obligatory for a Medical Examiner."

Joanna shot an almost panicked look at Gibbs. "God. You think you'll need to –"

"No." Soft, level and calming. "No, I don't. Ducky's much more than an ME, believe me. You'll see. We usually work this way – we go by car to get to a case quickly, and Ducky brings the truck with the forensic equipment." He looked round as the big vehicle's engine started up; Tony was about to move it to the other side of the road, nearer to the Saxons' house. There was no sign of Helen Henderson, and her OBU had moved several blocks further away down the street.

They followed the truck across the road, and as they drew near to the house, McGee burst through the front door and hurried over to them, his face tense. He looked to make sure there were no reporters within earshot.

"Boss! We've got a ransom demand!"

**Reviews would be much appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 3

Joanna

Chapter 3

The atmosphere in the Saxons' house couldn't have been summed up in one word. Deputy Vincent was standing looking out of the window, tension and anxiety in his hunched shoulders. The young couple sitting together on the sofa were almost rigid with fear and guilt, and the Sheriff went to them immediately. She squatted down on the carpet in front of Nanette and took her hands.

"Hey," she said softly, "How're you holding up?" Behind her Gibbs shifted impatiently, but he held his peace. This was her town, and her people, after all, and he knew he ought not to grudge a few more seconds spent on their welfare.

Mrs. Saxon simply let out a wail, and her husband hugged her closer. "We were doing almost OK," he said, "Well, staying calm anyway. Until that call came." He took a deep breath. "Special Agent McGee recorded it."

Nanette Saxon leapt to her feet. "I don't want to hear it again!" she cried frantically, and ran out of the room.

Joel looked after her and almost rose to his feet, but in the end didn't follow. Joanna looked at him questioningly. "I'll go in a minute," he sighed softly. "I _need_ to hear it again."

"We understand, son," Gibbs said, and the young Corporal almost snapped to attention. Tony would have smiled at the instant marine to marine recognition if the situation had been any different. He looked away and saw Joanna's eyes were on him, soft, slightly amused and understanding, and he realised his hidden smile had been recognised, and somehow approved of.

"That's not what I was thinking, Joel," the Sheriff said gently. "What's happened to your face?"

The flesh around the young man's eyes was puffy and swollen, and it could have been taken as the result of crying, but his jaw-line and under his chin had the same swelling, making the skin pink and tight in places.

"I don't know," Joel Saxon said, "I woke up like this. It itches a bit. I must have eaten something."

Tim McGee said tactfully, "Maybe Ducky could prescribe something. In the meantime, I'll play the call that I recorded…" he glanced at his watch, "nine minutes ago. He wasn't on long enough to get a location, boss, but it was a cell phone which came off a local tower." Everybody regarded the recorder as if it were a snake.

"Hello?" Joel's anxious voice came from its speaker.

"Mr. Saxon," cheerful male tones, full of false bonhomie oozed forth. "I see you've got the Feds in. You'll be pleased to know that your son is well, and being cared for." The young father gave an anguished moan; Andy Vincent leaned over the back of the sofa and gripped his friend's shoulder. The tone of the recorded voice changed to malevolence in an instant. "You should know, though, that I'm quite capable of pitching the kid in the nearest river if I don't get what I want."

"What _do _you want?" Joel's voice was terror stricken. "You can have anything I've got. Don't hurt my son!"

"I _want_… two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, Corporal Saxon."

"But I haven't - oh!" The marine's recorded voice broke off in clear shock.

"You see?" The voice was knowing and hateful. "You have. You_ know_ you have. Get your hands on it. I'll be in touch."

The recording ended, and a collective exhalation of held breath went round the room. Tony said, "So, he _knows_ you've got that much money. How does he know?"

McGee continued, "Who _would_ know? Does it give any clue to who he is?"

Joel bit his lip. "Can I see how Nettie is? She needs to be involved in this."

"I'll get her, Joel. You take it easy." Joanna headed out of the room, and Tony noticed that her gaze lingered for a moment on a photo on the wall near the door. It was a family group, the proud parents and a much younger Owen, maybe three months or so. There was that pain on her face again, and now he had a clue to the cause of it. Unless he wasn't Very Special Agent DiNozzo, the Sheriff, like Gibbs, was grieving for a child. He almost followed her out of the room, but now wasn't the time or place to be sticking his nose in. Anyway, Gibbs, having pulled him to one side, was organising things with McGee, and he needed to listen.

Nanette wasn't in her bedroom, where she thought she'd find her, so Joanna looked in the bathroom. That was empty, so she tried the kitchen. Nanette had her back to the door, and didn't hear Joanna until her holster tapped against a worktop. She whirled round with a gasp, and a horrified, guilty look, put her hand behind her and pushed a drawer shut.

"Hey," the Sheriff said. "Take it easy!"

"_Joanna!_" the younger woman said with relief. "'Struth, I thought you were Joel. I wanted a cigarette, and I've promised him I'll quit."

Joanna shook her head slightly. "Maybe now's not quite the time." She put a reassuring hand on Nanette's shoulder. "The recording's done. Are you ready to come back? Joel needs you." She thought that that would be enough to persuade her, but Nanette still hesitated before nodding. Jo stood aside for her to pass, and followed her back to the sitting room, a small, thoughtful frown gathered between her eyebrows.

Gibbs noted their return, and said, "Right, Corporal," and the strained and wilting Joel Saxon straightened his back. "This dirtbag's watching – he knows we're here. He knows you've got the money. I was kinda wondering why a junior NCO had been targeted."

"The money came from my grandmother," Joel told him. "She sold her big house when she moved into sheltered housing, and put the money in a fund for me, which became available when I became a father. I didn't want to touch it until I came out of the marines, unless there was an emergency of some sort; my plan had been to sign up for eight years, then come out having learned a trade. That way I served my country, and sorted our future. I intended to start a business."

"And did you? Learn a trade, I mean?"

"Yes, Sir," the young marine said proudly. "I don't believe there's anything about heavy plant or trucks that I don't know. But it doesn't matter now – the guy can have it if it gets Owen back. You agree, don't you, Nettie?" His tone was strangely pleading and hesitant, as if he were actually afraid that his wife would say no. But -

"Oh, yes," she said fervently.

The same puzzled frown was on the Sheriff's face that Tony had noticed when she'd re-entered the room. He made a mental note to ask her about it as soon as he got a chance. She saw him looking at her, and realised they'd both been doing a lot of that, and told herself to concentrate.

Joel had no idea who could possibly have known other than his grandmother's lawyer, whom he trusted, and the staff at his own bank. He rubbed his itching face, and then scratched absently at his wrist, a picture of misery as he picked up the phone. A call to the bank manager produced first indignation that any of his staff could possibly be suspected, and then a softening and a genuine desire to help. The money would be waiting for Corporal Saxon in half an hour.

They decided between them, well, Gibbs decided, the Sheriff and DiNozzo took a bit of persuading, that only one person other than Deputy Vincent, would remain in the house with the Saxons once the forensics were done. And that person would be Gibbs.

"You're a bit of a hands-on guy, Gibbs." Jo's tone was matter-of-fact and uncritical, but Gibbs frowned.

"I am?"

"Boss, I think what Jo means is that when that tosser rings again, you'll try to strangle him down the phone."

"I was thinking disembowel. DiNozzo, who do you think is the best of us to advise Joel Saxon on how to handle that tosser?"

"Ah."

----------------

"Boss… a word?"

"McGee…. If you're going to add your ten cents worth to who stays with the Saxons, forget it. We -" (_We?_) Tim thought - (Gibbs is _sharing!!_) "need you to set up a link to the house from the Sheriff's office, so you can all work from there, and listen in, but just leave Corporal Saxon and me to talk to the kidnapper. Oh, and set up a video link with Abby as soon as we send the forensics back to her."

"Sure thing, Boss, but I wasn't going to say that." Gibbs raised an eyebrow and waited politely. "That rash and swelling on Joel Saxon's face… you know me and allergies, I tend to notice these things… well, I've seen it before."

"And?"

"It was when I noticed him scratching his wrist that I remembered. I bet his ankles itch as well."

"Which means?" from Gibbs.

"Spit it out, Doctor Tim," from Tony.

"Quit it, the pair of you!" from Joanna. And rather meekly, they did.

"Guys, exactly the same thing happened to my mother – it was a reaction to a very strong sleeping tablet. Tramexadine or something –"

"Trapazine, Tim," Ducky's cultured tones interrupted. "I've just been looking at the lad, and couldn't think where I'd seen that reaction before. But I believe you're right. The reason that young Joel didn't hear the window opening, or being forced if I understand aright, is that he was _drugged._"

"Ducky," Joanna said with an odd edge of anxiety in her voice, "Do many people have the same reaction?"

"You're thinking that Nanette didn't. No, not everybody does. It's not rare, but it is uncommon." The Sheriff relaxed a little. "We can do blood tests, if the Saxons are willing, and see if we can get some idea of how much was ingested."

Joel was willing enough; his wife took one look at the hypodermic, and shrieked, "No!" Ducky 's attempts to calm her went unheeded. "You're not sticking a needle in me!" A moment later she'd fled from the room.

"She's a bit scared of injections," her husband said apologetically. "But if I was drugged, then so was she, and you'll find it in my blood, right? So you don't really need hers?" He covered his face with his hands for a second, then wiped his eyes. "I feel really scared," he said shakily. "Who is this guy that he can get close enough to know what my finances are, drug me and my wife, and _steal my son?_"

He almost collapsed, and Gibbs and Andy Vincent hauled him over to the sofa. "I'll go make some coffee," Andy said, and noted how Gibbs lifted his head. "Yeah," for everyone," he added.

**OK, a bit rambling, I know, but I had to get the scene set before I could get on. Excuses, excuses, I know….. But please review anyway!**


	4. Chapter 4

Joanna

Chapter 4

The bank helpfully sent the money in an armoured van. Gibbs wasn't happy, he was hoping to catch the guy and recover little Owen before paying the ransom came into it. But hey, it was there if they needed it, even if they now had the added worry of a lot of money in the house. Everyone walked round with holsters exposed. They'd heard nothing more from the kidnapper, and Joel Saxon was a stiff shell of controlled misery. Gibbs, who Tony hadn't forgotten for a moment must be feeling this situation so badly, gave no sign of it, and was holding the anxious father up by sheer force of Gunnery Sergeant personality. He caught Tony watching him, and gave a slight, appreciative nod for the support that he knew was there.

Ducky had sent Nanette to lie down, and administered a tranquiliser. He'd given the young marine a shot of strong antihistamine, and his face was returning to normal, although the ME said there'd been enough sleep medication in his blood to tranquilise a gorilla. "I can't be exact, Jethro, but I'd say it was ingested twelve to sixteen hours ago. I took the liberty of looking in the dishwasher, but it had already been run, so any trace evidence, I fear, would be gone if it was administered say, in the milk they used for hot drinks." They decided to send the milk to Abby anyway.

Tony got on with collecting forensic evidence, and McGee offered to come back and help, when he'd finished setting things up in the Sheriff's office. Tony thoroughly surprised him by declining the help. "That's OK, McComlink, you've got enough to do. If I get snowed under, I'll ask the Boss. He's got nothing to do but guard all that money." As Tim went away, Tony held his breath in anticipation…

"You'll need a hand with the processing," Joanna said from the doorway.

"I was hoping you'd offer," Tony said honestly, turning to face her. As she looked into the little boy's room, her face was set again in that immobile mask of pain. "I think we need to talk. Aloud, that is." He was surprised at his own openness, but it had occurred to him hours ago that the Sheriff was someone there was no point in dissembling to, those brown eyes could see straight through him.

"Mmm. I agree."

"Are you OK with this?"

"I know how to process a crime scene, Tony." He couldn't tell if she was deliberately misunderstanding or not. Never mind. If he was not going to hide behind one of his well worn masks, he wasn't going to let her do it either.

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

Tony stopped what he was doing; he wasn't going to be responsible for bad forensics through lack of concentration. He took a deep breath.

"This thing… about children… see, you're holding yourself together on the outside, but_ inside_, that's something else. I'll tell you something; and for once I don't think the Boss would mind. I've seen it with him; he lost a child, his daughter, and it's never gone away for him. Cases like this are torture, and for you too, I think. It's happened to you, hasn't it?" Very gently, "You lost a child."

Since that first painful look they exchanged they'd both known they'd talk. All the unspoken words that had been flying between them made him pretty sure it was OK for him to speak so boldly. But her low pitched answer shocked him rigid nevertheless.

"Three, Tony."

His eyes went wide with horror. "_Three?_"

"Two at Twenty weeks, one at thirteen. _They_ classed them as miscarriages, _I_ class them as children I lost." She sighed. "There was a lot of other awful shit going on at the time. Look, I'll tell you, if you want to know, but not now. It's a tale for an evening and plenty of alcohol. And don't think I won't ask what puts that look in your eyes, either. But right now… "

"You're right, we've got a lost little boy to find." Tony shook his head, wrung with sorrow for her, and squeezed her arm, then took a calming breath. "So what were you thinking when you brought Nettie back into the sitting room? And when you asked Ducky about reactions to drugs?"

Jo too was all business again. "I don't like what I was thinking." She told Tony briefly about Nettie's alarm, and the excuse about cigarettes. "At first I thought 'what sort of a guy is her husband if she's that frightened over a lousy cigarette', and then when I asked her to come back into the sitting room because he needed her, she hesitated. At that point, I was seriously thinking that there might be a down side to the marriage, and more particularly to _Joel,_ that we hadn't known about."

"At that point," Tony agreed. "But then something changed. Can I hazard a guess at what it was?" Jo simply nodded. "When he talked about the money, and what he'd planned – when he asked her about using it to pay the ransom, he was almost afraid of her reply."

"You caught that too. I _think_, 'cause who'd refuse in such a case, that he wasn't actually believing she'd say no. But maybe they'd quarrelled in the past about how to use the money, and he was remembering that."

"So you don't actually think now that he's an abusive husband – but there's possibly friction in the marriage."

"I'm not sure that I really could have believed it of him anyway. But yes, I wonder about the marriage."

Tony thought for a moment. "Did you smell smoke?"

"Did – no, now you mention it, I didn't." She turned and left the room quickly, with Tony at her heels. In the kitchen, she went straight to the drawer that Nanette Saxon had closed behind her. It held polishing cloths, and other kitchen equipment. There was no sign of any cigarettes.

"Perhaps she took them with her to the bedroom," Jo said.

"Perhaps;" Tony agreed "Bears thinking about though. What else could she have been hiding? We'll tell Gibbs when we can do it without alarming Joel."

They worked in silence for a while, and Tony processed his thoughts as much as the room. He tried to imagine what three failed pregnancies must feel like. He wondered about the man in all this; Joanna didn't wear a ring, and hadn't so far mentioned a partner. The thought of becoming a father had always scared him; but he sometimes wondered and had done ever since the case of the speed dating lieutenant, and her offspring predicting software, what it might be like to have children with Ziva. He tried to keep his sigh internal – every time there was a lull in the racing of his mind, his thoughts still went to her. How would he feel if they started a child, and lost it? How would he feel if it happened _three times_?

"It'll never happen" he thought. "She doesn't love me and I_ don't_ love her. I wonder what time it is in Tel Aviv?" His thoughts switched direction. What would he say if Joanna really did ask about _him_? His less than shining childhood, and _father dear_? "The case, DiNozzo, the case… "

He moved on to the window frame. After testing for fingerprints, without success, he took a step back and simply looked. There were marks on the casement, and on the handle and lock. He studied them for a while, and frowned in puzzlement. "Jo?"

"Mmm?" He wasn't the only one who'd been deep in thought.

"Come and tell me what's odd about this?"

The Sheriff came and stood beside him. He was aware of her warmth, and smelled her light perfume, and was just beginning to enjoy the closeness when he thought of the times he'd stood next to Ziva in the elevator. He clenched his teeth and tried to concentrate.

Joanna gave no sign of being aware of _his_ nearness. After a few moments, she said, "There are no marks on the frame."

"And no distortion," Tony added. "I don't know what was used to force it."

"Or if it was forced at all," Jo said. "What sort of tool would make those marks?" She pushed the casement wide and checked the sill, found the camera and took a couple of shots, then pointed the camera at the ground outside and took a few more. "Just to say I've done it," she told Tony. "Those flagstones won't hold a footprint."

Tony agreed, but nevertheless he put one gloved hand on the sill at the far end by the hinge, where there was less likelihood of finding any trace, and vaulted over into the garden. Jo passed him the torch; although it was broad daylight it helped to isolate small areas, but their original assessment was right; there were no marks on the frame. "There should be," Jo said, "If it was forced from the outside." They exchanged an uneasy look. The implications were not nice. A flicker of movement caught Tony's eye, and he looked towards the back of the house. A figure in a hooded jacket was trying to move stealthily across the back lot from the Saxon's garden to the next house.

"Hey," Tony yelled, and the figure gave up trying to be inconspicuous, and ran. The SFA drew his gun and set off in pursuit. He was soon in difficulties, as the area behind the houses was a warren of sheds, trees, bushes, fences, gazebos, and even a hot tub. "Well, he won't be hiding in that, surely?" he thought, as he was forced to stop and look round. The next moment he was knocked flat by a flying body, as a bullet whined over where he'd just stood. The hooded figure was off and running again, as the Sheriff leapt off him and pulled him to his feet. They gave chase again, but their quarry had too much of a start. They heard an engine start up, and caught a glimpse, through a gap between buildings, of a vehicle which could have been blue, and could have been a van, as it revved away.

Another of those looks passed between them.

"Hey," Tony said, "I think you just saved me from getting shot!" He thought of the rather pleasant feeling of having the Sheriff on top of him, and then he thought about Ziva on top of him in the shipping container, a lifetime ago.

"Sorry I flattened you," Joanna told him. "I went round the front of the next house, and I could see the SOB. I realised he was out of your line of sight." She thought of the rather pleasant feeling of being on top of a decidedly hot man, then reminded herself that that aspect of her life was over.

"You can flatten me any time," the hot man told her cheerfully. "Are you all right?"

"Maybe a bruise or two. You?"

"Possibly on my butt," Tony said, still smiling, then his face fell. "Didn't see his face, didn't get a look at the vehicle."

"Nor did I. I thought he must be another nuisance reporter, until he took a pot shot at you. What would the kidnapper be doing sneaking round the back of the house? It's stupid or insane."

"I suppose it must have been him," Tony mused. "Who else would be running around the back lot with a gun? Dammit, we nearly had him!"

They were walking back to the Saxons' house as they debated, and stopped as they heard a voice calling from behind them. A lanky young man with a very large camera came running up, but he wasn't pointing at them. It was Helen Henderson's cameraman.

"Hey," he said breathlessly, holding out a small cassette, "I filmed him."

"No kidding," Tony said, and "Filmed him!" Joanna said at the same time.

"Yeah," the young man told them. "I see anything going on I automatically point my camera. I've not looked at it; I thought I'd just give it straight to you before Helen notices! I hope it helps."

Tony was impressed with the young man's decency enough to shake his hand as he thanked him. He hoped he'd come to no harm by his kindness – especially since there was a shriek of rage in the distance, and the lovely Miss Henderson came storming across the grass, looking just a tiny bit put out.

**I'm trying to get a couple of chapters out as from Sunday I'll be a long way from the internet for a few days. Will try to post again tomorrow, then probably not until Thursday. Review, anybody?**


	5. Chapter 5

**If anyone thinks there's a passing resemblance between Helen Henderson and Erika Sykes of CSI Miami, could be…it occurred to me as I was writing this chapter that I might have met Helen's sister somewhere… and I don't own them any more than I own NCIS.**

Joanna

Chapter 5

Tony snapped out his cell phone and hit speed dial. The bark that greeted him was expected.

"DiNozzo! We're guarding two people and an

ME and a lot of money here. Care to explain what's going on?"

"All clear, Boss. I'll explain in a minute. Got a situation to deal with here."

"I'll be there in a second – "

"No need, Boss, it's a Helen Henderson situation."

Gibbs cut the call with no more than a "Hmph", just as Miss Henderson arrived.

"Baz, what the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

The cameraman stayed calm. "I'm handing over some evidence."

"Evidence? What d'you mean, _evidence_? You've probably filmed an exclusive, and you want to hand it over? A felon in flight! It could be broadcast nationwide!" The reporter's eyes were mean as she got right in her colleague's face. "That film belongs to EastWide TV. Give it to me. Now!"

The cameraman had had enough. "For freaks sake, Helen! Why are you so worried? _You're_ not on it! You were doing your face in the OBU. This could help to save a kidnapped child. When that's done, _then_ you can have your face all over the country if that's what matters."

For a moment the reporter's mouth just opened and closed like a fish, then she hissed, "Just give me the damn cassette."

"Sorry," Joanna drawled, "I've already taken it into custody."

Miss Henderson gave her a look that would have killed her on the spot if she'd had the power, then she glared back at the cameraman. "Damn you, Baz. I'll have you fired!"

The young man shrugged. "Maybe. But good cameramen are always in demand. Helen, I've worked with you on and off for three years, and I'll tell you now that hell will freeze over before I'll work with you again."

The reporter made a noise like a strangled scream, and teetered off on her four inch heels towards the EastWide truck. Baz went to follow in a more leisurely manner, but Tony called him back.

"No reason for you to lose out on this," he said. "We'll make a copy; if you come up to the HQ in a couple of hours, I'm sure McGee will have worked his magic, and we can give it back. We'll trust you not to use it until we give you the go-ahead."

The lanky guy smiled his thanks and ambled away.

Joanna said, "If Helen had kept her mouth shut we could have told her that."

"Yeah, but we couldn't have trusted her not to use it."

The Sheriff sighed, and her shoulders slumped. "You're right, of course. Hey, d'you want me to go and tell Gibbs we let the guy get away? You could take this across to McGee." She offered him the cassette.

Tony tilted his head to one side as he looked at her. "You are one sweet lady, d'you know that? But do I look the sort of guy to hide behind a Sheriff?"

"No, you don't. I'll take this to Tim, and be right back to apply bandages." She reached up and touched his cheek very gently, and they separated, Jo walking across the road to her HQ, Tony back to the house. His cheek tingled; Ziva had never touched him like that.

--------------------

Gibbs' initial frustration that they'd been that close to the guy was softened somewhat by news of the cassette, and relief that once again, his trouble magnet Senior Field Agent had escaped serious damage. Both Saxons were in the living room again, side by side on the sofa. Nanette was still bleary-eyed from the tranquiliser, having been pulled from her sleep and into the room by Gibbs, at the sound of the shot, so that he and Andy Vincent could guard the Saxons and the money together. Joel simply looked as if sleep were beyond him.

As he went to return to the processing, Tony flicked his eyes at his Boss in an invitation to follow. He said in a loud voice as they left the living room, "I think we might have to send the whole window to Abby, Boss, could you come and see if there's any way we could board it up?"

Back in Owen's room, Gibbs said, "So what's on your mind?"

"Nothing I like, Boss. Jo and I were comparing notes – " As he was explaining the disturbing thoughts he and Jo had been sharing, the Sheriff returned, and nodded her agreement.

Gibbs looked incredulous at first.

"You suspect the baby's _mother_?"

"Explain it some other way, Gibbs. Honestly, I'd be glad if you would." That pain was back on Jo's face as if it had never been away.

"And now, there's more, Boss," Tony said. "First, Ducky said the dishwasher had been run. I asked him later if it was cold, and he said no, it was still slightly warm. It had been run in the morning. I don't care how houseproud you are; you find your baby's been taken, you don't remember to turn the dishwasher on!"

Jo went on, "And right now, I can't think of any reason for the guy to be at the back of the house unless he's trying to communicate with someone inside it." Her face twisted. "Prove me wrong, Gibbs. Please!"

Gibbs went to the bedroom door. "Yes," he said loudly, "It'll have to be removed temporarily. Come out to the garage and help me look for something suitable to board the hole with."

They scanned the perimeter, but could find nothing on the grass under the couple's bedroom window. By some bushes, "Big enough for lurking in," Tony remarked, they found a footprint, of which only the heel was viable. Jo covered it to retrieve later. They went into the garage where they could talk more freely.

"I trust your deputy," Gibbs said; "But he needs to stay there with the Saxons, and you need to tell me if you think he can conceal this when you fill him in."

"You don't think we've got enough to tackle her, then?" Joanna's voice was hard. "All circumstantial as yet?"

Gibbs studied her gravely. "I know, you're mad as hell. But no, we need more. I know that little boy is out there, but you know, jumping the gun might make things worse."

A tear ran down Joanna's face. "I _do_ know," she whispered hollowly. "But right now, I want to go in there and rip her arms off." She shook herself and wiped her eyes. "Don't worry. I can act with the best of them. I won't give anything away."

She almost did as they walked back into the kitchen. She stopped by the table, and the two NCIS men ran into her like dominos. "Sorry," she said shakily. She was looking at Nanette's woollen jacket hanging on the back of a chair. One side of it was hanging lower than the other. Joanna reached into the pocket of the low side, and lifted out a mobile phone.

"She thought I might look in the drawer," Jo said softly. "She's cuter than I'd have given her credit for. She had opportunities to move it…. " As she spoke she keyed in the sequence that would give her the phone's number, wrote it down, then replaced it in the pocket, so Nanette wouldn't find it gone.

"But when Ducky gave her the tranquiliser, he very kindly escorted her to her bedroom, and never gave her the chance to come and collect it," Gibbs said tightly. "And he saw to it that she took the tablet."

"So she goes to sleep, unwillingly," Tony took up the idea. "The phone's on silent, so no-one hears it if it rings, or maybe they had pre-arranged times… and she doesn't answer, so her idiot partner comes to the house!!"

"It all fits;" Gibbs said ruefully. "Still circumstantial – anyone can carry a cell phone."

"Boss," Tony said anxiously, "There's an air of incompetence starting to hang around this case – we have to find Owen before stupid things go wrong."

Gibbs hefted the piece of board and the saw he'd found in the garage. "I'll remove the window, and the frame, and secure the room. Finish the forensics, keep your cool and we'll think this through."

-----------------

The forensic evidence had all been gathered, and Joanna came up with an idea that would protect her senior deputy from trying to keep a horrible secret from his best friend; his godson's father. Another deputy was called in to take over, a cheerful, no-nonsense Afro-American girl who introduced herself as Reba Yorke. Andy was called back to HQ, and listened, sickly while Jo told him of their suspicions.

"Jo, I can't go back in there – "

"You don't have to. We'll look after Joel. You take the Imprezza, and go to DC, to the Navy Yard. Take all the evidence to Abby Sciuto. Tim's called ahead, she's expecting you. Enjoy driving the Subaru, and don't worry."

"Are you _sure _she's –"

Jo put her finger to his lips, and said gently, "Go."

"So Andy's a closet speed demon?"

"Nothing closet about it, Tony."

"You're good at looking out for other people, aren't you, Jo?"

"It goes with the territory."

He stepped close to her and said, for her ears only, "So who looks out for you?"

"Oh er… well, Seth, Andy, the other deputies… I've got friends in the town… " She stopped stammering, got herself together and said defiantly, "Hey, I'm fine." He gave her a steady look. "I get by," she amended truthfully. "Interviews."

They spread all the data that the deputies and state police had collected; (the three VA patrolmen had long since returned to other duties,) and began to go over the information. They'd hardly begun when the phone link from the Saxon residence rang. They kept silent and left Joel and Gibbs, over in the house, to answer.

"I see you've got the money, Corporal Saxon."

"Yes. Tell me where to take it, and give me back my son!"

"All in good time, Corporal. You have observant people around you. We'll wait until it's dark." Click.

They heard Joel's groan before he put his phone down.

"Local, Boss, that's all I can say," McGee said. He went back to copying the film that Baz had taken, then set it up to run. "D'you want to watch this?" he enquired. _Did they?_ They all gathered round.

At first things were unclear, as the cameraman decided which was the most important thing to film. The view swung about, and then settled on the running man. They saw how he hid behind a rose arch, and then Tony coming into view, his Sig drawn. The gun in the suspect's hand came up, and then the Sheriff appeared, exploding into the picture. It was all in long shot, and the hood still obscured the man's face as he fired, and Jo brought Tony down.

Both law officers were surprised at how quickly they were on their feet again, it had seemed much longer. The suspect was running towards the camera now, and the watchers observed how the operator had pulled the shot from long to close-up. They sighed; the man's mouth and chin were visible, but that was all. He ran past the camera; and Tony thought that the young cameraman was fortunate. Because he was far away and using the zoom lens, the running man apparently didn't know he was there. If he had, considering how ready he'd been to use his gun, things could have gone badly for Baz; Tony bit his lower lip in relief.

The view swung to follow the man, and they realised that the end of a blue van was visible, sticking out from behind a wall. At first it was in long shot, but as the runner approached it, the cameraman had used the zoom again. The van was dirty, and the plate unclear, but Tim didn't panic too much about that. He had ways…. The runner disappeared behind the wall, and a few moments later the van moved away. The film swung back to Jo and Tony coming to a halt, disgusted looks on their faces.

"Damn," Seth said. "I'd hoped for more."

"That's plenty to go on, Seth. I can get the make and model, at least part of the plate, height and weight of the suspect, and description of his clothes. I'll put out a BOLO as soon as I'm done."

"I've already sent a deputy to where the van was parked, to look for tyre tracks and ask if anyone saw anything. We'll have more for him to go on soon," Jo added. Tim worked on, and they returned to the interviews. Tony wished that Ziva was with them; an extra pair of experienced hands would come in useful right now. What the hell, it was the same old thing; lull in thoughts equals thoughts of Ziva. The fact that she wasn't there gave him an idea. Find out who hadn't opened their doors to the officers; find out why they weren't there, or if they'd returned. He found nine, and decided to go for the ones that were closest to the Saxons' house.

"Jo, where's number 1039?"

"This side of the street, first residence after the municipal buildings end, turn right out of the door," Jo told him promptly.

"And 1044?"

"Nobody there. The Booths have gone to meet their new granddaughter in Iowa."

Tony grinned. "Then 1039 is where I'm going." He disappeared.

The house in question now had a car in front of it, and a friendly but tired youngish woman answered the door. "You just caught me," she said. "I'm just in from early duty, and I'm going off to bed in a moment."

When Tony asked her if she'd seen anything during the night, he knew at once that her answer was paydirt.

"I was just getting ready to set out for work, about 1.15 am, and I saw the light on in the side bedroom," Polly Mainz said. "I know that's Owen's room; Nanette showed me how they'd decorated it as soon as they knew they were expecting a boy. I thought that the little lad must have wakened them – I could see both of their shadows on the blind."

"Was the window closed or open, do you recall?"

"It was open."

"I don't suppose you noticed any strange vehicles?"

"I sure did. A dark coloured van; it was parked right there, opposite my house. It made it difficult for me to pull off my drive." She paused."Look, I'm sorry I didn't come forward. You know, when you've just pulled a long shift you're not thinking too sharply. If I'd known it was significant, I'd have said something. I mean, I got back an hour ago and I saw the tape, but I didn't want to be nosy. I really hope you find Owen soon. If Nanette needs anything…"

"I'll remember that, thank you, Polly."

He almost ran back down the block. "Two questions," he shouted as he burst into the HQ. "One: Is Polly Mainz a nurse?"

"Yes," Seth said.

"And is Nanette her friend because she's also a nurse?" Jo nodded silently. "So now we know where the sedative that knocked Joel out came from."

They all gathered round Tony. "Polly saw two figures in the room. But Joel was already out cold. So Nanette let her accomplice in."

"Abby confirmed that the marks were made from the inside," Tim said. "Gibbs doesn't know any of this yet 'cuz I pulled the feed, so's not to alert Nanette until we've decided what to do. Abby and Andy have been playing with various devices –" He saw Tony start to grin, and hurried on. "Don't start, DiNozzo!"

"Oh, carry on, McMalaprop, please!"

"The marks on the casement were made with a pipe-wrench – not something you'd use for breaking and entering. The marks on the lockplate were caused by a screwdriver. Inside job. No doubt about it." Nice, college boy McGee snarled. "Sweet little Nanette set her own baby up to be kidnapped."

Tony's face twisted. He couldn't help glancing across at Jo, who was looking out through the window at the Saxon house. Her expression mirrored his. He thought for a moment. "OK, how's this. McGee, you go over and relieve Gibbs – tell him we're getting nowhere and need his input, or something. We need to fill him in without the Saxons knowing."

Tim nodded. "Even if we arrest Nanette now, we can't drag her out of the house in cuffs in case this guy's watching. Hey; I've got a better idea." He pulled a couple of connections from his computer array. A few seconds later, his phone rang.

"McGee! What's up with these damn' contraptions?"

"No problems here, Boss. You having trouble?"

"Well, yeah, McGee, or I wouldn't be calling you."

"OK, Boss, I'll come across and fix it. Can you come over here and take my place for a while?"

The hesitation was so slight they wouldn't have known it was there if they hadn't been waiting for it. The technophobe caught on instantly. McGee met him halfway across the street. "Didn't want Nanette watching the feed in case it alerted her. Tony'll explain."

Gibbs sighed. Truth to tell, he was glad to be out of the house for a while. His part in the proceedings, although necessary, had been tedious, and full of dissembling. Ducky knew something was going on, but they couldn't go aside for a conference, and Joel had to be kept in ignorance in case they were wrong.

So, they weren't wrong. What a bastard world it was sometimes. He breathed in a few gulps of fresh air before joining his Senior Field Agent and the Sheriff.

**A long chapter, since there won't be another one until Wednesday or Thursday. Nasty Nanette gets arrested, Tony and Jo have a long talk, and Helen-Bloody-Henderson causes more trouble. See you then, in the meantime, review? Please?**


	6. Chapter 6

Joanna

Chapter 6

"_Uh-oh, why are those two in each others' faces?"_

"Tony, we can't wait any longer. Hell, I don't _want_ to wait any longer."

"Jo – " He tried to back off a bit. "It's been a long day – "

"And it's going to get longer unless – "

"Just wait until the Boss gets back."

"Hey, I know Gibbs makes the decisions. _I_ called him in, remember. I agreed to his taking the lead!"

"I know that, Jo – "

"So d'you think I'm going to blow it or something, just because I want to chuck her into the interview room and scream at her until she's jelly on the floor?"

"No, he doesn't think that," Gibbs said from the doorway. "Sure, it's time to start on the wife, but what about the husband?"_ ("Damn, that came out wrong!")_

He was right. Jo had been holding herself in check ever since Tony had returned with Polly Mainz's testimony. Her own loss was raw, right alongside her fear for Owen, whose mother had deliberately endangered what Jo had never had the chance to cherish. She'd had enough. Her voice went up an octave.

"Nobody's accusing _him_, dammit!"

Gibbs didn't blink at being yelled at. He held his hands up defensively, (which surprised Tony, especially when he remembered that apart from Ducky, and very occasionally himself, no-one _dared _yell at Gibbs). "No. I know. That came out badly. I meant that we can't just spring this on him. We have to warn him before we tackle her."

Tony tried to help; not a good idea. Although Joanna wondered why she was using him for target practice – she_ liked _DiNozzo.

"That's right," the SFA said reassuringly. "How do we best tell him that his wife – "

"By getting his son back! And we do that by tackling Nanette. Now! Joel's heading for pain whatever we do, so – " She stopped abruptly, and went stiff for an instant, then the fight went out of her. "Oh, damn," she said. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm yelling at the wrong people."

"You're only doing what everyone else wants to do," Seth said, looking up from his computer.

"Everyone else has got more sense," she grumped, but she'd had her moment of venting. She wondered if Tony had deliberately set himself up for her to shoot at, for exactly that purpose. It wouldn't surprise her; she recognised pure, innate goodness of heart when she saw it. He came behind her, and rubbed her upper arms comfortingly. She leaned into his touch a little, hoping that she was showing him she understood, and was grateful.

She mimed holding something heavy, and gave it to the NCIS boss. "This is a buck, Gibbs," she told him, "and I'm passing it. Joel's sitting over there with no idea that his situation is about to get even worse. Where do we go from here?"

Gibbs thought. "We _go_ back over there," he said after a while. "I'll talk to Joel. I've spent the most time with him."

"And he does seem to respond to another marine," Tony said.

Jo bowed her head. "God," she muttered, "I'm ashamed to feel so relieved."

"Be relieved later," Gibbs told her, with the ghost of a grin. He looked at her closely. "You OK now?" She nodded. "Good. You get Nanette. You're not allowed to kill her. But get a confession. And her partner's name." A slow smile spread across Jo's face; a smile that could only be described as unholy.

The unmistakable growl of the Subaru turning into the parking lot behind the building announced the return of Andy Vincent from DC, and, tired as he was, he insisted on coming across to the house with them. Seth stayed by the monitors.

"I played the organ for their wedding service," he said sadly. "I've no stomach for seeing young Joel's sorrow, and truth to tell, not much for seeing Nanette's downfall. A wretched business altogether. Just bring young Owen back safely."

----------------------

As they all trooped into the Saxons' sitting room, Tim looked up, and the quick look the Sheriff gave him put a glint of satisfaction into his eyes. He'd been sitting opposite the young couple, schooling his face into a mask of calm. He felt dreadful for the betrayed husband, and no matter how much his upbringing and natural sense of fair play told him otherwise, he truly wanted to see a resounding come-uppance for the wife. His thoughts twisted inside him; this case was proving to be a hard teacher, and he was learning fast – things about human nature that he really had no wish to know. When this was all over, he'd seek out Abby, and together they'd grieve over the loss of another large chunk of his innocence. Right now, the look on the Sheriff's face gratified, but chilled him.

It seemed that Nanette saw it too; she suddenly looked sick. With Andy close behind him, Gibbs went over to Joel and drew him to one side. What he said to him couldn't be heard by the rest of the room, but the expression on the marine's face went from frantic, through shocked and disbelieving, and on to heartbroken and stunned. His friend didn't leave his side.

A horrible silence fell. Nanette looked at the door that led to the kitchen, and made to get to her feet. Joanna put two fingers on her shoulder, and casually pushed her back down, hard.

"Are you cold, Nettie? D'you want your jacket from the kitchen? Special Agent McGee will fetch it for you, won't you, Tim?"

"Right away," McGee said obligingly.

"Oh, and be careful with it; you don't want to drop the cell phone out of the pocket," the Sheriff added. Nanette went pale.

"Cell phone?" Joel interrupted uncertainly, "_That's_ Nettie's cell phone, on the coffee table."

Jo couldn't bear to look at him and see the pain that what she was about to do would cause him. "This is Nettie's _other _phone we're talking about," she growled. "The one she uses to talk to her pal. The one she checks up on Owen with." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Andy whispering something to Joel, she was trusting her Deputy to know what to do.

Tim returned, gave Nanette her jacket, and handed the cell phone to the Sheriff as if it were of no interest to him whatsoever. "Thank you," she said. She glanced at it, nodded, and handed it back. She drew a piece of paper from a pocket. "This is the phone's number," she told Tim. "I know you could have found it yourself," She added apologetically, "But I retrieved it earlier when I didn't know where I was going with this. I'm clearer now. I'd appreciate it if you could tell me its call history, Special Agent McGee."

"Certainly, Sheriff." Tim was the soul of polite efficiency. As he set about investigating the phone, everyone held their breath, except Joel. He spoke yearningly into the fraught silence.

"Nettie, what's going on? There's been a mistake. Tell them!" His wife neither answered nor looked at him.

"Forty-one calls, Sheriff, since noon yesterday; all to the same unregistered cell. It's currently switched on; I can return to the office and track it, if you wish."

"Thank you, Special Agent McGee."

Gibbs was impressed by the way they had, without any prior discussion, fallen neatly into that chillingly formal manner, and made a mental note to compliment them on it later. It was, actually quite scary. (Tony, admirably, hadn't said a word since returning to the house, but he shot an approving look at Gibbs. The Probie was all grown up.)

Nanette _was _scared. Joanna sat down next to her, and she flinched. The Sheriff began, conversationally, "Now, Nettie. I've had deputies out all day, scouring the county without much information about what to scour for. They're tired. They should have finished their shifts hours ago. But for _you,_ Nettie, and your little boy, they've stayed on the job. Now, why don't you give them a break, and let them go home. Let your husband have his boy back. Tell us the truth."

"I haven't done anything –" Nanette began. Jo slammed her hand down on the coffee table so hard that the cell phone bounced and fell on the floor.

"I said the truth, Mrs. Saxon. Your boy's out there." Her eyes were mad, and Tony wondered sadly about the story she said needed alcohol for the telling. "Your son's out there – with God knows who – and _you_ put him there."

"I didn't! He was taken!"

"Special Agent DiNozzo?"

"Yes, Ma'am?" (If Probie could do it, then so could he.)

"What did Polly Mainz's witness statement say?"

Tony repeated the statement faultlessly, word for word, just as she'd known he would. Nanette slumped. Her husband stared at her as if she'd grown two heads.

"Don't treat us like idiots, Nanette. Tell us who he is… this idiot who comes sneaking round the back yard when you don't get in touch? Who's cowardly enough to wait until it's dark before he dares to contact us again? You've left your little boy in the hands of some dirtbag who, from the sound of him, thinks he's cooler than James Bond. Who _has a gun._ Who's already tried to shoot a federal agent! Have you lost your mind?"

Nanette shook her head and said nothing. Jo leaned in until she was almost talking down the other woman's ear.

"Don't clam up because you think he's going to come and rescue you. Once he hears that we've got you, guess what he'll think? 'Ooh, goody. All the money for me, now! She can rot in jail while I go and spend Two. Hundred. and Fifty. Thousand. Dollars. Bye, Nettie!'

"He _loves _me!" Nanette screamed.

Joel put his head in his hands, and would have ended up on the floor but for Andy Vincent hooking a chair with his foot, and pulling it close enough to lower his buddy into it.

Jo thought, "_Well, I should have seen that coming." _She looked across at the Corporal, hit by this horrible double-whammie, and knew there was nothing she could say that wouldn't make him feel worse. Her throat went tight, and she was surprised and grateful when Tony stepped in.

"Oh,_ love_. Now there's a motive for you. So you were going to take the money and run off into the sunset with your boyfriend. You know what, honey, you deserve each other. And where does your son come into all this? Were you going to abandon him along with his dad? Nice one, Nettie. Well, you don't get the money, and _we'll _get the boyfriend. You know what they say in the movies – make it easy on yourself. Tell us who he is."

Nanette Saxon's mouth set in a mutinous line. Jo found her voice again.

"No matter, we don't need you to find him. I reckon we'll go and see what our friends have come up with." She turned away, and then turned back as if struck by a sudden thought. "I can't help thinking, though, of what the jury's going to think when they hear how you wouldn't help to get your son back when you had the chance." That struck home, as the young woman visualised the consequences of her actions for the first time. "You know what? I need a break. Talk, don't talk, Nettie, I don't care. We're going for coffee." She looked Nanette straight in the eyes. "But I haven't finished with you."

**AN: Ok, sorry, I said there'd be "the talk", and more Helen Henderson trouble, but I drove 200 miles, got home after midnight, and then sat down to get this up. I'm beat. I'll try for the talk tomorrow. Goodnight!**


	7. Chapter 7

Joanna

Chapter 7

**AN: I debated whether to mention this or not, but:- During the days when I was writing the last chapter, I lost a dear friend after a long, hard fight against cancer. She was incredibly brave right to the last. If you're someone who prays, please say one for Pat, and for husband John and son Peter, left behind. **

**The last few chapters were going to be somewhat angsty anyway, if I go over the top, please tell me.**

They put Ducky, carrying the money, in between Joel Saxon and his wife, and the other five, guns drawn, surrounded them as they crossed the street back to the Sheriff's office. They didn't cuff Nanette, in case her accomplice or Helen Henderson was watching, but Deputy Vincent gave her a look that completely cowed her, just in case Jo's words hadn't. He put her straight into one of the holding cells, muttering "My godson" as he clanged the door and walked out.

The others had all waited for him, as they gathered round Tim's computers. They waited a few minutes longer, as Reba's husband turned up with large amounts of sandwiches and deli goods. It was the first food any of them had seen all day, but they silently agreed, business first.

"Can I tell you _now_?" a plaintive voice asked. "Oh, Hi, Andy!"

"Hello, Abby. Was any of what I brought you any good?"

"Do you doubt it? First, the film. Don't tell that nice young man who gave it to you, but it was mostly useless."

"Useless?" Joel couldn't help his pained exclamation.

"Abby, stop showing off," Gibbs told her severely. Joel gave him a puzzled look. "She said mostly," Gibbs explained. "This young man needs you, Abbs."

"Right, Bossman. I couldn't make anything out except the make and colour, and approximate year, but I spoke to a friend –"

"Do we ask which friend?" Tony interrupted.

"You do _not,_" she told him. "He got me some satellite shots; the closest was this, about a mile away, in the right direction, ninety seconds later. It's ninety-nine point nine percent certain to be the right van"

"Hey," Joanna said delightedly. "A partial plate! Brilliant!"

"Yes," Abby said, beaming that she was appreciated. "And you can also see that the van has signwriting on it – it's too dirty to make out anything on the back door but 'ome han', but it's a start."

"I ran a search for every blue Chevrolet Express in a fifty mile radius, and came up with thirty-five," McGee said. Joel hissed through his teeth, but said nothing. "Only eleven with that partial plate, and six of those, with writing on, we've already discounted."

"How did you do that?" Gibbs enquired.

"I phoned the owners," a voice behind Abby spoke. Joanna noticed how Tony DiNozzo's head jerked up, and then how he tried to disguise the movement by straightening up and rubbing his back. Another face appeared alongside Abby.

"Ziva," Gibbs said. "When did you get back?"

"Two hours ago," the Israeli replied. "I came straight here, to check in, and found only Abby. I had put my car in for servicing while I was in Tel Aviv, and I have not yet collected it, so I wondered if I should sign out a car from the pool and join you. Then Tim explained that there was something I could do here. So, five of these vehicles are fleet vans, and I have verified with the companies concerned that they do not have any lettering similar to what we have. The local police checked the sixth van, and when it seemed reasonably sure that the owner was beyond suspicion, I checked the lettering with him."

"Never assume," Tony said approvingly, and the beautiful Israeli woman, or so Joanna assumed, shot him a look that was clearly suspicious; but he didn't deliver a sting. Truth was, the unexpected sight of her had knocked him as off-kilter as it always did.

"At that point I stopped, thinking that any one of these five could be your kidnapper; and I _did_ assume that you would not wish them alerted."

"You assumed right," Gibbs said. "I'd say get a car and join us, but I'm hoping that things are moving here. Get some rest; and if the situation here is no better in eight hours, come out here and join us."

"Gibbs, I assure you –"

"Ziva – _rest._" The young woman backed away from the webcam slightly, looking mutinous.

"Probie," Tony hissed, "You never told me Ziva was back."

"I was going to, Tony. I haven't had a minute. _So_," he went on hastily to bring things back on track. "These five we know nothing about, but here's a list of the owners."

"So there's a good chance that one of these is our guy," Tony breathed, feeling that lurch his stomach always gave when the hounds could finally see the hare. "Two gardeners, a mobile blacksmith, a painter and decorator, and a mobile auto mechanic."

"I know all of those guys," Joanna said. "None of them have records."

"Me now!" Abby yelled. "The trace I pulled from the window frame contained hydrophobic alkanes,, and some volatile organic compounds. There was also some formaldehyde."

"Meaning?" Gibbs was beginning to go into 'Don't poke the bear' mode.

"Meaning hand cleaner, and house paint, Gibbs!"

"Ome han," Tony said suddenly. "Home handyman. Joel, Polly said you'd decorated the nursery for Owen. Did you do it, or get a guy in?"

"Nettie had it done; I was still away," Joel said.

Tony pointed to the name on the screen. "Did this guy do it?"

Tim highlighted the name, and the corporal peered at it. "Yes," he said tightly. "Lewis Devoe. My wife said he did good work."

------------------

Things moved quite quickly. Reba took a handful of sandwiches and a patrol car and joined other deputies on the road. A BOLO was put out at once, officers began checking Devoe's known locations, and Tim began tracking the cell phone again; after ten minutes, however, it was switched off.

"Never mind," Gibbs said. "He doesn't know we're onto him, he won't be so cautious. It's getting dark. He doesn't know we've got his partner; he'll phone soon. You'll get a fix then."

Baz came in to collect his film, and was thanked again. Indirectly, he had played a vital part in gaining the information they needed.

"Don't play it yet," Joanna told him. "The guy's armed, and we'd rather take him by surprise."

Baz nodded. "You don't want a shoot-out when there's a child involved."

At that moment the door was flung open, and Helen Henderson stormed in. She didn't waste time saying hello. "That film belongs to the station," she told Baz. "They want it, now."

Joanna stepped in smoothly. "It's in your cameraman's custody," she said blandly. "He has instructions not to use it, until that little boy, who you seem to have forgotten about, is safe from an idiot with a gun. Miss Henderson, if you use it before I personally give you my permission, I _will _arrest you, and a whole ruck of your company executives for restless endangerment."

Tony came quickly to Jo's side. "And that's only if I don't get to you first," he said coldly. "Believe it."

Helen said sweetly, "Well, Sheriff, it's obvious you care very much about this child. Haven't you ever thought of having a normal life, like getting married and raising some yourself?" The unsaid remainder was clearly heard, _"Or can't you find a man who'll marry you?" _"Do you do this job as a substitute?" the reporter finished.

Jo schooled her face and voice into neutrality, and looked the reporter in the eye. Nobody breathed. Her tone was matter-of-fact. "I've been married," she said indifferently. "I've miscarried three times. I can't have children." She raised an eyebrow and shrugged as if to say "That quotable enough for you?" She turned on her heel and walked out of the room, without waiting to see what would happen. She knew somebody would send the reporter packing; she just had to hold her face together until she was alone.

Instead of taking the door through to the cells, she walked out onto the back porch by the car park, knocking off the security light as she passed. There was a raised deck with a balustrade, where the law officers would eat lunch in good weather. She leaned on the rail, knowing she was unseen in the gathering dark, and shook uncontrollably.

A few stars were beginning to show, and she looked up at them through a swimming mist of tears. "Tiree," she said softly, "Coll… Iona… _Kim_!" The last name was wailed loudly enough for Tony, standing in the doorway, to hear it. He crossed the deck to her in two long strides. "If you tell me you want to be alone," he said, "I'm not listening."

_He'd taken the reporter's elbow, and marched her to the door. "You know," he said conversationally, as he escorted her through it, "You can be a famous journalist without being a bitch. Unfortunately, you're so busy being the one, that you'll _never_ be the other." He'd stepped back into the office, and headed straight for the door that Jo had disappeared through. _

_Gibbs said, "Ya think it's a good idea?"_

"_Yeah, Boss. Any developments, call us. Otherwise, just give me a few minutes."_

Now, he was wondering if the in-your-face method of comfort would work. He sighed as he remembered having his hand slammed down on his desk, and being told to shut the hell up last time he had tried to comfort Ziva. But Jo turned towards him, and he put his hands on her shoulders; he could feel the tremors running through her. Led by instinct alone, he hitched himself up onto the balustrade, which brought her head to the level of his chest. "C'mere," he said softly, and she did so without hesitation. He drew her head against his chest, and prepared to get his shirt soaked, as he just wrapped his arms around her and waited.

He had no idea how long it was before she calmed, but finally, she sighed, and moved her head against his heart, then pulled herself away from him.

"What's up?" he asked, more to start her talking than anything else; and was stunned by her answer. Tony DiNozzo, whose stock in trade was to keep people off balance and not let them know what was coming next, was speechless.

Joanna groaned. "You've got such a nice chest, DiNozzo," she said softly. "It's strong, and safe, and warm, and it even smells nice. I can't get too used to it."

Floored by her candour, he took refuge in humour. "Sure, you can," he told her. "Drop in any time, stay as long as you like."

She put her forehead against his shoulder for a moment, then said ruefully, "Not going to happen. I know it; that part of my life is over. You know it; that Israeli beauty stands between you and any other woman you might ever encounter."

"No, she doesn't, she's-" the realisation that yes she does, no matter how he refuses to acknowledge it, felt like having a hole dug in his guts, with a spoon. He said hollowly, "How did you know?"

"I observe, just like you do. Look, we should go back inside – "

He pulled her back, gently, as she began to move away. She gave in, and leaned on the rail again; Tony dropped down and leaned beside her. "I asked Gibbs to give us a moment, and to call us if there were any developments. We're OK for a minute. And this isn't about me. Or Ziva," he added as his mouth twisted with this bitter new taste. "I haven't any alcohol, but we're past turning back now. The lovely Miss Henderson saw to that. I called her a bitch, by the way."

"Oh, nice one. But d'you know what feels so bad… so horrible? The_ bitch_ was right. This _is _a substitute. It's the only thing that keeps me sane. I often think it's the only thing that keeps me alive."

Tony's head jerked round, and he put up a hand to turn her face towards his. He looked into her eyes in alarm at what he'd heard in her tone. "You're not seriously telling me you want to_ die_?"

"No, not as long as there's something to keep going for. Catching bad guys is it. Other than that, I don't think I'd care."

"_Tell me."_

"There's no potted version, Tony. It starts with being born!" He nodded encouragingly. "That was in Liverpool, England, American dad, English mum. Grew up happy. Went to University, studied psychology. Found I had a flair for it. I stayed on to teach it, and worked for the local police from time to time."

"You're a CrimPsych!" Tony said delightedly.

"Was. I started to make a name for myself. Other forces used me from time to time, and I was still pretty young. Then I met Diego."

Something about how she said it made Tony want to poke fun. "Dee-_yay_-go?"

"Oh, yeah. Even his name was romantic. Senior lecturer in maths, heading for being a very young professor." She took a deep breath. "Look, Tony, the very few times I've told anyone about this, I've had to point out that he's not here to defend himself. Which is one reason why I don't talk about it, it just sounds like me whining from beginning to end."

"Whine away."

"With hindsight, it's all obvious. He liked that I was well known locally, and set out to be the one to get me. He made me feel like the world revolved around me. I had a couple of gay friends, and I _mean_ a couple, well established, and two of the best men you could meet. They kept warning me to go steady, but I really was swept off my feet. Until we were married."

"He wasn't violent, was he?" Tony asked in horror, and kicked himself as he saw the psychologist in Jo storing that snippet away.

"No, nothing like that. He wanted a family, and me to stop work to have it. I didn't want to, and I began to worry that having won the minor celebrity he was jealous that I was better known than he was. I told myself I was being stupid, but like I said, I really _did _have a flair for reading people. We rowed more than we danced; in the end I said I'd try for a baby, but I'd still work part time. I gave up giving interviews to the media; he was insufferable if I did. I tried on the rare occasions when I did talk to the press, to mention my clever maths prof. husband, but maths isn't newsworthy like catching crooks.

"The short version: I fell pregnant. It was great. I warmed to the whole idea. I felt my baby kicking away, and suddenly, I was earth-mother personified. At twenty weeks, that's damn near a viable baby, I miscarried. I'd felt ill, but there was a maths department function that Diego wanted me to go to; he was really put out that I was carried out of the ladies room on a stretcher. He said it humiliated him – shit, they took me out of the kitchen entrance – _nobody saw!_"

Tony rubbed her arm like he'd done earlier; she was being flippant, but he could feel that every word was being dragged out of her.

"My baby was a girl; I called her Tiree, after a Scottish island I used to go sailing to with my Dad. All Diego said was I should try again. So I did, which was not so wise when I was still grieving for her. Mitch and Max – Mix & Match they used to call themselves, tried to warn me that he was messing with his postgraduate students; I took the attitude that I'd got married, and no marriage of mine was going to be a failure through my doing.

"I hoped to win my husband back; how sad is that? The boys said if I wanted to live with a monstrous ego, that was my decision; but considering I was a CrimPsych, it's a wonder why I couldn't see what was under my nose. I got pregnant again, it felt good again; I gave up work. Diego was never around, and I tried not to think where he was, and what he was doing. Twenty-one weeks, I woke up on the bedroom floor, with no idea how I'd got there, bleeding badly, managed to get to the phone…."

She was silent for a while; Tony waited, his heart banging so hard in his chest he was sure she could hear it. He wasn't going to like what he heard, but hell, he'd instigated it.

"I was lying in my hospital bed, wrung out, another little girl gone from me – Iona, I called her – "

"Another island," Tony approved. "A beautiful, holy island."

"Yes…. The door smashed back, and Diego marched in. He… stood at the foot of the bed… and looked at me… he said – he said…" She willed herself to go on. "He said, 'You've done it again, you bitch. I wasn't sure last time. But you'd do _anything_ rather than have my child, wouldn't you.'"

"_Jo_…."

"I couldn't move… or speak… or do anything really. The sister who'd been looking after me had come to see why the door had crashed; she heard what he said. She told him, 'Out', in the sort of voice you don't argue with. He pushed past her, and I never saw him again." Tony wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with his thumb. "Mitch and Max got my stuff from the house; I stayed with them until I felt better. I was just beginning to look for a place of my own when out of the blue, an offer comes from Cornell, to teach there. Apart from the boys, I gave not a backward glance. Five weeks later I was in America."

**AN: Just couldn't resist putting in a mention of my beloved home city! **

**I don't think I've handled the posting very well – I wanted a case chapter then Jo's story in a chapter of its own. Oops.**

**Jo's story is taking longer than I expected, so I'm posting now, to avoid a chapter that's over-long compared to the others. Must try harder. More action tomorrow.**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Did you **_**see**_** the mega-blooper in the last chapter? RESTLESS endangerment? I worry about myself sometimes! Thank you, lovely, kind Diana Teo for noticing and not correcting me before I'd spotted it myself! My face would have been even more red.**

**Also, thank you so much, all the people who sent comforting words. Believe me, it means a great deal. There are some lovely people out there on .**

Joanna

Chapter 8

Looking back, Tony realised that the long silence that followed Joanna's words was not because he couldn't think of anything to say; he could think of _plenty,_ but none of it comforting, and certainly none of it polite.

"So where is this bastard now, then?" he finally managed.

"Tony, I have no idea. Mitch and Max and some other staff members at the university got solid proof of many infidelities, the divorce was through lawyers, and it went without a hitch. Max pointed out to me that Diego hadn't actually particularly wanted children, he just wanted to prove he could father them, and keep me housebound. Devastating stuff, but he knew I needed to hear it. I took nothing but my piano, guitar, and work stuff. The boys kept the piano when I came out here. I'm done with him."

"But not with the loss," he prompted gently.

She drew a deep breath. "Tony, are you _sure_ you want to hear all this? Unmitigated misery doesn't do a lot for the soul."

"Well, it's about time somebody had a go at _un-unmitigating _it, then." Joanna actually giggled. "D'you like that word? I must use it more often." He stroked down the side of her face, and moved a stray wisp of hair. "So, what happened next? Who's Kim?"

The small smile disappeared, and her face twisted. "Ah, when life's unjust, it does it big time. I arrived in the States, my head full of two imaginary little daughters, and threw myself into eighteen hour days. I did some work for NYPD, and after a while, I met Detective Kim Thorvaldsen. Down to earth. Practical. Not wildly romantic, although he had a crazy sense of humour."

"Had?" Tony's voice was soft and sad. He felt a sharp pang of the poor girl's pain, and began to realise that un-unmitigating was going to be harder than he'd thought.

"Yeah. He didn't sweep me off my feet – but look where that had got me. I didn't fall for him, he grew on me. He was a big polar bear; used to tease me that the blood of Viking berserkers ran in his veins. Well, he _was_ first generation immigrant, his family came to the States from Norway when he was fourteen, and he _could_ have been a Viking. One day I was surprised to realise I loved him; gently and comfortably, and safely. He was an utterly good guy, and I trusted him, and in the end I adored him. We got engaged; I got pregnant; he knew my history, and treated me like spun glass. All his cop friends thought we were perfect for each other.

"We planned an informal, totally fun wedding, with booze and loads of good food, and laughter and friends, and I was thinking, 'This time I'm not stressed, and I'll keep this baby, and have a wonderful husband and a cute sprog, and things are looking up,' and three weeks before the wedding he was hit by a stray bullet during a drugs bust, and I never even got the_ chance to say goodbye_!"

The almost hysterically rising voice stopped, and gave way to sobs. Tony gathered her up in his arms again, and after a few moments, she said, against his chest, "When they told me, I collapsed, and went into labour. This time I lost a little boy; I called him Coll, after the island next to Tiree. The doctors were angry that no-one had investigated before why it had happened; they found that the walls of my uterus are too thin, and when the placenta reached a certain size, it detached. I never had a prayer of completing a pregnancy." She paused, drew a shuddering breath and went on, "People may say that a miscarriage is no big deal. But _I_ say, that even before you feel your child, you're bonding with it, and once you feel it kick, it's not a foetus, it's your daughter, or son. You've lost your child."

She raised her head. "They did tubal ligations so I could never accidentally conceive. Like I was going to try. I've never been interested in casual flings, and what man looking for a serious relationship wants a woman who can't give him a child? If I ever wanted a man again?" The bitterness of her pain took his breath away. "And here's the crunch - they told me that after two previous attempts, the walls of my womb were so thin that when I got to twenty weeks they would have ruptured this time, and unless I had surgery straight away, I'd probably have bled to death." Her voice was as bleak as January. "Kim's death, and the death of his son, _saved my life._ Like I care."

After a while, Tony found his voice. "Well… I asked you to tell me."

"Be careful what you ask for?"

"No." He was positive. "I'm honoured that you trusted me so much. And I'll actually think of something sensible to say in a minute. You deserve so much better."

"How do you know?"

"I observe, just like you do." She gave a tiny laugh at having her words turned back to her, as he found a handkerchief and dried her eyes. "So how did you end up here?"

"Guy called Mac Taylor; Kim's Lieutenant. After the funeral he put a key and a map in my hand, and said if I wanted some time to myself, to use his cabin. It's a mile away, by the river. I got used to coming here, the people were kind, and didn't pry, but they helped where they could. I got to like the whole scene. I went part time at Cornell, began to consult from home, and moved out here to live. When the Sheriff retired, Seth suggested I should stand for election. He's a really good friend; he's helped me when I've been down; did you notice his matchmaking attempt earlier? When Gibbs paid you the compliment – and he said we were both impressed?"

"That was matchmaking, then? I wondered why you gave him that look."

"Now I'm impressed, that you noticed it. Anyway, I got elected, did the courses, law, firearms, you know… and I actually found that upholding the law, protecting the innocent, if you like… it gave me a reason to keep going."

"What would you have done otherwise?" He was still speaking softly, although he was aware of the same rising anxiety he'd had at the start of Jo's story.

"Oh, not suicide," she said reassuringly. "I guess I'd just have been depressed and neglected myself… dragged myself through life hoping it'd just go away. Life, I mean."

Much to his own surprise, Tony snorted. "It's about time you believed… hell, it's about time somebody _told_ you that there's _life _after life!" He was astonished at himself, but he didn't stop. He had the odd but sure feeling that this was the something sensible he'd been trying to find. "What happened to you isn't you. Your past shouldn't define you – what about the person you are now? The _worthwhile_ person you are? The _woman_ you are?" She was looking at him with her mouth open. "You think the only thing to do is to be _miserable_ for the rest of your life? You think the right thing to do is to _waste_ a special girl?"

She gasped at the compliment, and said weakly, "It's not that simple, Tony."

"It's not impossible."

"You're speaking from experience?"

"Yeah!" He froze all at once; Joanna was looking him straight in the eye, with a 'gotcha' expression, and he remembered what she'd threatened. She was going to ask about _his_ past. "Oh, no," he said, shaking his head, "I'm not going there. We're talking about you."

Jo opened her mouth to argue, and at that moment Gibbs came through the back door. "There's been a development," he said, "and you're not going to like it."

"Saved," Tony thought as they raced back indoors. Jo flashed him a look that clearly said, "I'll get you later," and happy to see the spark of life back in her, he simply flashed her back his most infuriating grin.

Beside the coffee machine was a small area with a low table, a sofa and a chair; a place for people wanting to talk informally with a law officer. In one of the chairs sat Baz, the young cameraman, his camera on the floor beside him, and Ducky leaning over him, tending a cut cheek and black eye. Seth was also hovering, bristling with indignation.

"She took the film," he said as Jo raised a questioning eyebrow. "She and her soundman. When Baz tried to stop her, they hit him with a tripod. They shoved him out of the van and drove off."

Ziva's voice came floating in from DC. "We are scanning national networks from here – "

"Hey," Tony said, "I thought you were told to rest!"

"Oh, hello, Tony," she said, ignoring his comment, and almost ignoring him. "We will let you know if it is broadcast."

"Too late," McGee said grimly, pointing to where one computer was displaying the Eastwide network news programme. Baz's film was being run; when it ended, they were treated to enlarged stills, including the van.

Ziva said, "I have arranged for the detaining of Miss Henderson and her cohorts as soon as they can be located."

"Thanks, Ziva," McGee said.

Gibbs growled, "So if Devoe watches TV, he'll assume we're onto him."

"I'll kill that bloody reporter," Jo said furiously.

"Not if I see her first," Baz said thickly.

The phone rang; McGee got to it first. "Boss, Sheriff," he said urgently, "the van's been found abandoned outside Lowrock, eighteen miles from here."

"Lowrock?" Seth asked sharply. "That's where Lew Devoe's mother lives. I was talking to her the other day; she says the farm's difficult to run since her husband died, and Lew doesn't help –" They were all heading for the back door.

"Andy, stay here and handle the communications," Jo told him. "I know you want to come, but you need to stay with Joel. The odds are that Owen's at the Devoe farm. Gibbs, I'll take DiNozzo, yes?"

"Sure. McGee, Ducky, with me."

To Tony's delight, Jo took the Subaru. "I know where we're going, and we'll be there first."

"You don't know Gibbs' driving."

Jo just grinned, let the clutch out, did a wheelie, and they streaked away. "I _want_ us to get there first," she said. "Lew's mother may be his partner in crime, but I'd say not - he's more likely to have told her some tale – that's if he's not got the lad hidden in a barn somewhere. I don't want to alarm her if she's innocent, and Gibbs would alarm anybod - "

Gibbs' voice interrupted. "D'you know what sort of vehicle Mrs. Devoe drives?" Andy's voice said, "I'll find out. Think he's driving that now?"

"Very possibly."

"Red GMC pickup," Andy said, and gave them the number. Jo gunned the engine.

-----------------

They bounced up the dirt road to the farm, lights on full beam, sheep on the other side of the fence looking like eerie little clouds come down to earth. As they left the car, they drew their guns and approached carefully. The front door was ajar, and Tony pushed it cautiously. "I'll go first," Jo whispered. "She knows me, and – oh, bugger!" They could see a still figure lying at the foot of the stairs. They cleared the ground floor, and Tony kept an eye on the staircase as Joanna went to the middle-aged woman who lay below it.

"Hannah," she said gently, "It's OK, don't try to talk." The woman was very pale under her outdoor tan, and her face was twisted with pain. She gripped the front of Joanna's uniform jacket.

"Must talk," she said. "I saw that news thing. Knew… it was Lewis. He came here this morning… with a baby. Said it was his girlfriend's… said she'd dumped it on him and gone… to Richmond shopping. Said he didn't know how to look after a kid…"

She whimpered as Jo moved her obviously broken arm into an easier position, then sighed with the relief that it brought. With great courage, she insisted on telling the rest of the story while they made her as comfortable as possible. Her son had simply left the child with her and gone; she had fed him as best she could, and tried to comfort him, as he was frightened. After a while he'd cried himself to sleep. Later she'd taken him with her as she'd fed the animals, which had entertained him for a while, but then the cycle of fear and crying and sleeping had begun again.

"I was up in my bedroom…He went to sleep on my knee… I put the TV on… I saw that film… I knew it was my son, and I knew whose baby I had. I laid him on the bed… and went to the phone, but Lewis ran in and snatched it out of my hand. He demanded… my car keys… I tried to run, but he followed me… he didn't _mean _to push me down the stairs… "A tear ran down her cheek as she remembered what her son had done. "When I woke up, he was gone. I don't know about the little boy. I should have known Lew was lying…"

"Ssh, now. Help's on the way, and we'll find Owen. Thank you for telling us. Just rest now."

"I'm so sorry, dear."

"Sssh…."

Tony had thrown caution to the wind and dashed up the stairs, and as he came down to report that the little boy was not in the bedroom, Gibbs, McGee and Ducky came through the front door. As the ME instantly set about helping Hannah Devoe, tutting under his breath about his second _live _patient in an hour, McGee was talking to Andy. Reba had found the red pickup, with the two nearside wheels in a ditch, not far from the farm. There was no sign of Lewis Devoe.

Tony thought for a moment. What were this hopelessly incompetent criminal's options? Especially in the company of a small child? Steal another car? Yes, if you could find a convenient one. Hide? Plenty of outbuildings. Did the farm have an old truck, or maybe a quad bike? "I'm going to check the barns," he told Jo.

"Coming," she said at once. They drew their guns again, and headed outside. The only lamp they could see appeared to be broken, so they crept around with only the lights from the farmhouse to help. As it happened, the lack of light turned out to be a help, as they didn't miss the wavering glimmer of a torch coming from the largest barn.

Tony moved to the front door as Jo went stealthily to check for any other escape routes. It was slightly open, and he squeezed in through the gap. The torch was clearly visible now, so the agent aimed his Sig in its general direction, as he felt for a light switch by the door. "_Yes! Now let's hope it works."_ He braced himself for the sudden brightness and flicked, and Lewis Devoe was standing like the proverbial rabbit in the headlights.

There was indeed an old truck in the back of the barn, and closer to the door was a workbench, where Devoe had clearly been searching for the keys. One hand was still in a drawer.

"No, no, no, Lewis. Even if that old thing will run, you're not going anywhere. Just raise your hands, nice and slow, 'cuz I don't want to shoot you. At least, not until you've told me where young Owen is. Now take your hand out of that drawer, and it better be empty."

It was Devoe's other hand that moved, as quickly as a snake. Snatching up a handful of ball-bearings from the bench, he hurled them at Tony's face. The agent put a hand up to protect his eyes, and the next moment, as the kidnapper leapt at him, he felt a hard blow high up on the left side of his chest, and then a fierce pain. He staggered back against the door, and slid down it, clumsily trying to transfer his gun to his left hand, while he pressed his right against the site of the pain. He could feel wetness under his fingers, and his left arm wouldn't respond to his commands to raise the gun.

Devoe said, "You again," and the agent lifted his head to see the man standing over him; in his right hand was a chisel, wet with Tony's blood.

**AN: Ah, a cliffie at last. Would anybody care to review?**


	9. Chapter 9

Joanna

Chapter 9

"Yeah, me again," Tony said agreeably. _"Think, DiNozzo. He didn't use the gun because you took him by surprise, but he must have it. Can't see it. Waistband at the back. Wish he'd shoot himself in the arse."_ It had been a mistake to transfer his Sig to his left hand_,_ he realised, although some feeling was coming back to his arm; and even if he could pass it back faster than the guy could stab him again, or go for his own gun, his hand was so wet with blood he couldn't be certain of gripping it properly. Ziva would have something to say about his carelessness if she ever found out. _"So, DiNozzo, your only defence here is your mouth. Not the first time."_

Devoe started to reach behind him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Tony told him kindly. "You'll be dead three times over if you do – four if I can raise my arm. And like I said, we kind of need you alive, cuz the whole county's looking for young Owen, and you're the only one who knows where he is… Your Mom's still alive, thanks for asking, by the way. _Hey!_ I said don't reach for that gun!"

"Oh, yeah?" uncertainly, "Why not?"

Tony's utter trust in his colleagues had been rewarded many times since joining NCIS, but never more perfectly than now. Click- click - click: the sound of three guns being cocked in exact time; one second apart. Joanna and McGee from behind, and Gibbs from the doorway, his arm and Sig entering before he did. Lewis Devoe wasn't a brave man; the chisel fell from his fingers, and he raised his hands. Special Agent DiNozzo, before anyone could try to help, stumbled to his feet, straightened, and put his face about a foot from the kidnapper's.

"Now, Lew, _where's Owen?_"

Nobody moved to help him; it was far more telling for the wounded and bloody agent to be confronting his attacker on his own terms than propped up by someone else. McGee stepped back and opened his phone to summon Ducky. Joanna pulled a Smith & Wesson from the back of Devoe's pants, none too gently. As he winced, Gibbs' bark was the echo of Tony's earlier one.

"Hey! The man just saved your life. Least you can do is answer him."

"He didn't save my life."

"Like he said, three times over. Ya think we'd have even let you start to turn your gun towards him before we all put you down? We're wasting time. _Where's the little boy_?"

Tony's eyes glittered with pain, and as Devoe still hesitated, he grabbed his shirt front. "Kinda need help with standing up here, Lew. You do realise if you don't tell us, you won't leave this barn alive, don't you?"

"You can't just kill me! Sheriff – "

"That's me, Lew. I can tell folks what I like."

Finally, Devoe caved. "Back Hill. In the woods. Drove in aways. Not sure which track. Sat him down and left him."

"You're a fine example of humanity, sir," Tony told him, and sat down with a thump on a corn bin. Joanna finally allowed herself to go to him.

"Freaking bloody hell, Tony," she exploded, "you do love to put on a show, don't you?"

"Sorry, sweetheart," he mumbled as she wrestled with the blood-soaked buttons of his shirt. She couldn't stop a hiss from escaping as she saw the injury to his chest. It was three inches long and jagged, and a fast approaching Ducky was clucking over it while he was still three feet away. (Clucking, Tony thought vaguely. A duck clucks…)

Gibbs glanced at it, growled, and cuffed Devoe to the back of the old truck. "You wait there," he said. "Right now we've got more important things to think about." Jo called Andy.

"I'll bring Joel," he said.

"First things first; call the State Police and ask them to get that FLIR 'copter in the air right away. Then go with Joel, and Baz if he wants to, to where Reba found the truck, so he's close when we find Owen. We're going to find him, Andy."

"Yes, I believe we are. Bye – wait, wait!" There was a pause. "State Police have arrested Helen Henderson. And her sound man. Thought you'd like to know that."

"Oh, Yeah!"

Tony was arguing with a despairing Dr. Mallard.

"No hospital, Ducky."

"Anthony, I know I told you the wound isn't deep; the corner of the chisel seems to have slid along a rib, but it needs repair. And a tetanus shot."

"I'm up to date on that. Hell, Ducky, my gluteus maximus is still throbbing from the last one you gave me, and that was a year ago! And _you_ can stitch me up as well as any hospital. _After _we've found Owen. And anyway, I heard the ambulance go with Mrs. Devoe a few minutes ago." The good doctor knew when he was beaten, so he cleaned the wound and dressed it, his mouth clamped shut in disapproval.

Tim called Ziva to update her, and Tony's head shot up as usual when he heard her name. "McGee!" Tony said urgently, "Don't mention this." He gestured at his bloody shirt. "Wouldn't want her to worry!" Tim gave him an old fashioned look; DiNozzo really did think the world revolved around him. If he could have read Tony's thoughts he'd have known different. _"If you only knew, McMistaken. I just don't want to imagine the indifference she'd receive that bit of news with. I've really missed my chance there…" _

Jo had disappeared, and Tony came out of his funk and looked round wildly. "She's gone without me! Ducky, she _wouldn't –_ " The unmistakeable snarl of the Imprezza stopped him, and a moment later it was outside the barn. Tony smiled. "See? I knew she wouldn't leave without me!"

McGee brought him a towel, a bottle of water, a spare shirt and an NCIS fleece from the boot of their car and he got out to the Imprezza under his own steam; Gibbs and McGee followed, but the Subaru's tail lights disappeared rather quickly, to Gibbs' chagrin. Just as on the way to the farm, the NCIS Boss was wise enough not to try to make a race of it.

Sitting in the powerful saloon, without a seat belt, Tony stripped off his ruined jacket and shirt. Jo said nothing, and kept her eyes on the road. Mostly. "Hurry up and get your belt back on," she growled. As he sloshed water on the towel and cleaned himself up a bit, before putting the spare clothes on, he wondered what he'd done to upset her. There was an edge to her voice that he'd not heard before.

"I'm sorry about the blood in the car," he said tentatively. "It'll clean, don't worry," she said expressionlessly. He didn't want to press the matter while she was driving at high speed, so he gave up, and set to establishing contact with the helicopter instead. If

"_He could have died… I should have stayed with him instead of splitting up… 'struth, I wish he'd put his shirt on… He's still thinking about Ziva… I saw how hurt he looked when she barely acknowledged him, and just now his head went up like a puppy's just because he heard her name. And why do I care?? For fucks sake get a grip on yourself. You've got a child to find." _She seemed to have felt more of a spark inside her since their long talk, but now the knife was turning in her soul again. The bitter voice inside her was telling her what it always did; "there _is_ no happy ending for you, ever, don't for a moment imagine there is."

She'd probably have moaned aloud if it wasn't for the sight of the red truck up ahead. Seeing it gave her something to hope for. "OK, navigator, do your stuff!"

Tony called the helicopter. "Golf Echo 1, this is SD1, we're at the abandoned car now; turning up the nearest firebreak."

"We see you, SD1, we have SD2 about half a mile back, suggest they take right fork and come out on the south side of the hill."

"This is SD2, coming up to the fork now," McGee's voice said. "Do you have anything?"

"Several small heat sources, one quite large", came the unseen FLIR observer's reply. "SD1, go left at the next cross track, about two hundred yards… whoa, forget that!"

"Forget it?" Tony enquired.

"It's a courting couple. We reckon another heat source stationary close by is their car engine cooling."

"Ah!"

The car bucked and jolted up the divide, and they passed a Chevy Suburban. They kept going. Tony groaned; the bouncing was painful. Jo shot him a look, but he shook his head. "Keep going," he said. "Golf Echo 1, how many sources are there exactly?"

"Six, so far. Any way of breaking it down?"

Tony thought. "Well… if they're not a baby, what are they? Nocturnal animals?"

"Yes, we've discounted one just now, it's a fox."

"Right. SD3, this is SD1. Come in?" It was Joel Saxon who answered; he was calm, but his voice shook with suppressed emotion. "SD3; we're still about three miles away."

"No problem. Joel, can Owen walk yet?"

"A few steps, on good ground. Not in the woods."

"Got it," Tony said. "Golf Echo 1, will the sound of your engine spook the animals?"

"Usually does," the observer said, catching on immediately. "Gotcha. Descending now. Looking for a heat source that _doesn't_ move."

"Hang on, Joel," Tony said, "It's nearly over."

"One to your left, a hundred and fifty yards, maybe twenty feet into the woods," the observer said suddenly. "Hardly moving. Keep going…. Stop there… into the trees on your left about twenty feet." The FLIR observer saw two figures leap out of the car, run right to the heat source, and run straight back.

"Badger," Tony said tersely. "Eating."

"Stay cool," the observer said. "There's one more. Turn right, and right again, and come back down the next divide to the one you're in…. that's right… OK, coming up right again," his voice rose excitedly. "Really small source… right by the track, curled up… stop now, stop now!"

They could see the yellow blanket in the headlights, and for the second time that evening Tony forgot his aches and pains, and ran. Jo was faster, and she sank to her knees beside the bundle.

The little boy was cold, and smelly, and there were tracks of tears on his face, but he was sucking his thumb determinedly as he slept. Jo gathered him in her arms, sobbing, as Tony waved his arms madly at the hovering chopper. His left arm hurt like hell, but it didn't stop him. He gave a double thumbs up, and then ran to the car and grabbed the radio.

"He's alive," he gabbled. "In a blanket, we think he's fine, you guys are fantastic, tell his dad he's fine.."

"A good evening's work," the FLIR man said. "We'll direct you to rendezvous with SD2, then it's all yours."

Five minutes later, with Tony holding the sleeping boy in his arms, and Joanna still crying gently, they rolled to a halt in a clearing alongside the NCIS vehicle. Another few minutes later, a patrol car came up the road, with Andy Vincent driving like a madman. A few seconds after that, Joel and Owen Saxon were reunited, with Baz filming the moment and looking distinctly mawkish himself.

Ducky checked the little boy over, and pronounced him fine. The check-up woke him, and he started to yell. "I've brought some food," his father said.

"And a change of diaper, I hope," Ducky said with feeling.

----------------------

Andy took father and son back to his own home, as his wife had insisted they shouldn't be alone tonight. They dropped Baz off at the HQ, as he said he had something to do there before he went home, and he'd get his girlfriend to come for him. Gibbs, Ducky and McGee went back to the farm to collect the prisoner, and that left Tony and Joanna alone in the silence where a moment ago there'd been frenetic activity.

They just stood and looked at each other for a little while, eyes speaking volumes. Jo moved so suddenly it startled him. She stepped close to him and unzipped his fleece, and then frantically unbuttoned the top of his shirt. He didn't ask why, and he didn't try to stop her. She ran her fingertips over the dressing on his chest, and he felt her trembling. Or was it him?

"You could have died," she said tightly. "I should have watched your back. I should have stayed with you. I'm not having someone else I l – care about dying on me!"

He put one hand over hers and held it against his heart, and the other on her face. "I'm still alive," he whispered. "You've_ saved_ my life twice today." He began to lower his face to hers for a gentle kiss, but somehow it changed on its way. His lips met hers with a heat that burned away the chill night around them; their arms went round each other and they kissed with a passion that left them breathless. They whispered each others names, and stroked each others hair, and kissed again; he pressed his hips against her so that she could feel exactly what she was doing to him, and she ground her body against his. She pushed her hands under the back of his jacket and ran them over the hard muscles of his back, as he pushed her against the car. And in the middle of tearing at each others clothes they both stopped. At exactly the same moment. He said, "We can't," And she said, "What are we doing?" and they clung together, shaking.

After a while he said sadly, "Comfort sex would be wonderful…."

"It'd feel so good… and be so wrong."

"I could love you so easily…"

"If you didn't already love Ziva. I could love you – in a strange way, I already do… but I love Kim, and my children, and I can never have them."

Tony laughed, the saddest laugh that had ever come from his lips. "And I can't have Ziva. I've been trying to tell myself that I don't love her, but when you told me I do, I knew that you were right. If we decided that we'd be great second bests, we could run away together, and be happy, and say 'I love you', and mean it…"

"But we could never trust ourselves not to change, and remember that we'd loved someone else first," Jo finished. They got into the car. "There may be a chance for you, Tony. She may realise one day just how special you are." She took a deep breath. "I know you're not going to talk about your past; I'm a psychologist, remember, and I'm not going to push you into suffering more, but I know this. Although damage done in childhood, and I'm certain that's what I read in you, is the hardest of all to repair, you're doing it. You're mending yourself. You may be damaged, but you're not broken. She'll notice your strength, and your bravery, and your uniqueness, one day." She paused.

"Life after life. I don't know, Tony. You've convinced me to fight, and I will, but I'm not damaged, I'm broken. I can never have them back, so I can never be whole."

"Jo… sweet, good girl," he whispered, in pain for her. "Don't give up…" He put his hand behind her head to pull her close, and kissed her one last time very gently.

"I'll try," she said, and started the car. They rolled down the hill to the road.

**AN: Angsty or what? You may recall I asked you to let me know if I went over the top. I'm still asking.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Last chapter, then. Don't kill me.**

Joanna

Chapter 10

Flashback:

There had been so many thanks given: Jo's to the chopper crew, to NCIS, to Baz; Joel's to just about everyone.

"I remembered," he said, "when we were sitting in the car, that I'd not uttered one word of thanks, except to God. I owe you all, big time. I asked Andy to turn round."

"Will you be OK?" Tim asked, for everybody.

"I think so…" He glanced at the door that led to the cells, but had no inclination to go through it. He sighed; he felt awkward about saying any more, but they were concerned for him, and after everything they'd done, they deserved his trust. "OK, things weren't perfect. I knew Nettie resented the fact that I wouldn't spend my way through the money, or let _her_, but I thought she was happy in the end with waiting a few more years, and then we'd have a good life…I'm sure it's not easy to love someone who's away a lot of the time… I'm naïve I suppose." He shook himself, and hugged his son. "We'll be fine. Thank you again. I'll never forget." He went out with Andy, and they could hear Owen shouting "Car! Car!"

They'd all glanced at the back door, glad that the young marine had_ not_ arrived in time to hear the exchange that had taken place on the other side of it not ten minutes previously.

"Make yourself comfortable," Gibbs had said, as he steered Devoe into a cell. Nanette Saxon, in the cell next door, jumped to her feet, and held her hands out through the bars to him.

"Lewis!" She looked at him in surprise as he walked to the bed on the other side of the cell, and sat down "Lew! What's wrong, honey?"

Jo, behind Gibbs, thought, "Brainless or _what_?"

"What's wrong? I'm in a cell, that's what's wrong. It can't go wrong, you said, that's what's wrong. 'We'll get the money and run away together,'" he mocked. "You think I'd run away with you? And your brat? I was _that_ far away from running away with a quarter of a million! Leave me alone, you silly cow." He lay down on the bunk and turned his back.

Nanette didn't have the sense to keep her mouth shut. "But Lew, we weren't going to take Owen! We were going to give him back to Joel, remember… and make a new start… Lew…"

Joanna swore softly. She called Nanette a few things that almost made _Gibbs_ blush, and stalked out. Tony looked up from talking to Abby; Jo noted that Ziva was there too, looking over the forensic scientist's shoulder.

"Hey," he said when he saw Jo's face. He stood up to meet her, wincing in spite of himself, and absently rubbing his chest. His eyes were anxious.

"It's OK," she said, although her eyes were mad. "I've just heard a conversation I'd sooner not have heard, is all."

"Sure?" He touched her face; his gentle concern defused her anger. Even though they knew now that they could never be lovers, he still treated her with a tenderness that gave her a pain in her chest.

"Sure." As she explained what she'd heard she was still standing close to him, and over his shoulder, she could see the monitor screen that had a moment ago showed Abby, laughing with happiness that Owen had been found. Now it was Ziva's serious, beautiful face that was filling the screen, and she was watching them.

"_Realise,"_ Jo willed her silently. _"Realise how good he is. Realise what you could have!"_

There was a commotion at the front door which broke into her thoughts. Everybody looked. Everybody smiled. Baz reached for his camera and started shooting, as Helen Henderson and her soundman were marched in, in cuffs, by two state troopers.

"Where would you like these two?" one cop asked. "Oh, just leave them where they are for a minute," Gibbs told him with a malevolent grin. "Right in front of that camera."

"Sure," the policeman said obligingly, and he and his partner left.

Helen screeched, "You're not going to use that! You're not going to put me on show like this!"

Baz rubbed his bruised cheek, and put his eye back to the camera. "But Helen, it's an exclusive," he told her sweetly.

"How does it feel, Miss Henderson?" Gibbs asked.

"I didn't do anything!"

"One cameraman with facial injuries. One nice lady with a broken arm. One toddler hungry and cold and scared in the woods. One Federal Agent stabbed in the chest. All down to you, Miss Henderson," Gibbs told her coldly. "You didn't do _anything._"

A moment later, the cell corridor of a nice, well-behaved town's Sheriff's Office, was fuller than it had ever been since it was built.

----------------------------

So here he was, feeling physically much better, even if being desk bound on Ducky's say-so until his stitches were removed was a bore. Especially when the others were allowed to go out to play and he wasn't.

Ziva hadn't reacted when Tim had told her that Tony had been stabbed; he supposed that since he was obviously standing there just fine, there was nothing to say. Anyway, he reflected, she was sure to have seen much worse. Abby had squealed, and hugged, and fussed, and warmed his tired, hurt and emotionally drained heart.

He sat recalling the lunch he'd had with Jo three days ago. They had arranged it to make the parting at the end of the case less painful. Ziva had heard him confirming it on the phone, but hadn't shown any interest at all. He'd have given anything for a smile, hell, he'd have settled for a snarky comment, but her mind was clearly elsewhere.

"…. Hey, it's no trouble. I'm looking forward to it… it's to say thanks… what for? For saving my life, of course."

She'd driven up from Bartram, and he'd met her at his favourite Italian restaurant, having spent the rest of the time on the phone praising the food; she was wearing black kick-flare jeans with black boots, and a blouson jacket of sea-green silk. The boots were crusted with black bead flowers, and had two inch heels; her statuesque height wasn't the only thing about her that drew admiring glances from other men, and envious ones at him. He knew she deserved it, and yet he was thinking how completely unlike his tiny Ziva she was. (See, DiNozzo, this is how you'd have been if you were together. God, she deserves better.)

They'd enjoyed themselves; he'd showed off, speaking Italian to the proprietor. She'd laughed. Her eyes weren't as shadowed as when they'd first met; he really hoped she was feeling less down, and not just putting on a show for him. They found a new level to relate at, without the intensity, but a slightly flirty friendship, and without even mentioning it aloud, they decided this could work. They'd meet from time to time, he'd ask about Joel… they were bound to see each other when the trials came up. He'd call Seth from time to time too… he wished things could have been different…

He looked across at Ziva's desk, and knew they couldn't.

She'd been to see Abby, and he looked away as she came back to her seat. She wasn't going to catch him staring. Gibbs, who never missed a trick of course, noticed, but said nothing. There wasn't a thing he could do.

They worked on, as night began to fall, and Tony stood up and stretched. He was just beginning to think about taking his not particularly tired but definitely aching body home for a pizza, a soak and an early night, when his cell phone buzzed. Looking at the caller ID, Tony said "Hey, Seth," in a pleased voice.

The way Seth said, "Tony…" drained the blood from his face.

Something about the way he went still got Gibbs' attention. That got Tim's, and then Ziva's. Tony whispered "Yeah," a few times, but otherwise just listened. "I'll be there," he said finally, and disconnected. He remained stock still for a moment, and then swayed a little on his feet. He sat down on the edge of his desk, eyes unseeing. Gibbs was out of his seat and at his side in an instant. A second later, so was McGee. Ziva sat frozen in her seat, not understanding what was happening, but feeling a dreadful anxiety nevertheless.

Gibbs asked, as his own stomach plunged, "Joanna?"

With a great effort, Tony slowly turned to face him. The distress in his face was unbearable. "I.. I got to go to Bartram, Boss." Gibbs simply nodded, and waited. "She took four bullets, across her back." Each word struggled to emerge. Gibbs put his hand on his senior agent's shoulder, and tried to transmit strength, when in truth, he felt very weak. "Her… spinal cord is severed… her liver's almost destroyed. She's bleeding… internally… even if she were strong enough for surgery, they wouldn't be able to locate all the bleeds in time…" Tony looked at his Boss desperately. "She's going to go into cascade organ failure…" his face twisted with agony. "She doesn't have long. She's asking for me."

"Go," Gibbs said softly, his face infinitely sad. "Hey, I'll come with you."

"No, Boss, it's OK… well… if you're –"

"Tony!" Ziva spoke from his other side. "I will drive you."

"What…? I mean…"

"It is the Sheriff you are speaking of, yes? I am truly sorry, Tony. But I did not know this lady, so I am not as involved as Gibbs, or McGee. It would be safer, I think, and I _am _a fast driver."

"That OK with you, Tony?" Gibbs asked, gently for him.

Gibbs… Ziva… Tony was too devastated to make a decision. He simply nodded, allowed Ziva to pick up his jacket, his badge which she clipped to his belt, and his gun which she put in her backpack, and let her steer him towards the exit.

Gibbs said suddenly, "Tony… it wasn't…"

"Suicide by bad guy? No, Boss. Bad information. They…were told there was one supect. They cleared, she was cuffing him and… the other one came in from the garage and… shot her in the back. Semi automatic I guess…Andy Vincent shot him dead…"He stood still again, looking round him as if he couldn't remember what he was doing there. Ziva put her hand against the small of his back and pushed gently.

"Keep in touch," Gibbs mouthed at her, and she simply nodded back.

--------------------------

They had travelled about five miles before Ziva broke the silence. "If you wish to talk, Tony, you will find me a good listener. If not, then I will be quiet."

That got through the maelstrom of dreadful thoughts. No, he didn't want that! He didn't want her to think that she was simply the cabbie, and required to keep her mouth shut.

"No… Ziva… I wouldn't do that to you… I just…" he stifled a sob. "I don't know what to say."

"You are fond of her."

"She certainly made an impression on me… she's a good person, Ziva… she's been through a lot of very bad things, but she's still good…"

Ziva said thoughtfully, "Then I see why you were drawn to her," and waited to see if he would get her meaning, but he wasn't making any connections.

As she drove, she asked a leading question from time to time, choosing carefully, as she didn't wish to make him go anywhere he didn't want to. Looking back later, he recalled how delicately she'd handled him, and he was grateful. Right now it wasn't sinking in, but trying to form thoughts about Joanna, and articulate them to Ziva, was making the journey pass more speedily.

As they entered the hospital, Andy rose from where he'd been waiting. His uniform was blood-streaked, and Tony recoiled physically at the sight.

"Yeah I know," the Deputy said. He led them to a side corridor. "That door," he said, pointing. "Seth's with her."

"I will go and find a coffee machine," Ziva said. "Take as long as you need."

"I'll show you," Andy said.

Tony nodded his thanks as they walked away, and stood looking at the door with his feet like lead. He was failing her by being afraid. He reached out an unsteady hand, and pushed the door open.

All through the journey, he'd kept an irrational hope that there was some mistake; that he'd walk in and find that they'd done surgery, that there was hope. He stood and looked at one of the best women he'd ever met, and it was absolutely clear that there was none. The wisps of hair that framed her face were plastered to her skin by sweat. Her complexion was slightly sallow as her liver was no longer doing its job. There was a morphine drip, and nothing else; no heart monitor, or blood; they had given up, they were letting her die.

Seth looked up. The man he'd not thought of as old until now, looked bowed by age. He was sitting at her left side, carefully holding the hand where the drip was taped in.

"Tony… come and sit down, son. She's sleeping now, but she'll be real glad to see you." Tony realised with amazement that the man who had been her friend for a long time, had left her unhindered side for him, the newcomer. He was touched more than he could have said, if he'd been able to speak at all. He sank into the chair and took her hand.

After a while, Seth said, "She's seemed better lately, you know? A bit less intense… more light-hearted. I heard her singing, the other day. I never knew she could sing… she has the voice of a songbird…" He broke off, weeping silently.

"I didn't know she could sing, either," Tony said softly. He tried to think of something to give Seth a focus, and said eventually, "Is Andy OK?" Seth gave him a smile that was more of a frown, and began to reply, "Well, he's doin' all right…" when Joanna moved her head.

"Jo?" Seth said, "Hey, princess, d'you know who's here?"

Jo opened her eyes, and saw Tony, and the dying woman's face was lit by the most radiant smile he'd ever seen. The tears rolled down his cheeks, and she said in a husky, barely audible voice, "Sweetheart, don't cry."

"Can't help it," he told her honestly, "I don't want you to go."

"He-e-ey… listen… the way I see it, if there's no hereafter, then at least there's peace… although you know I tried… like you said… and I_ did_ find more than I had before… don't cry… you did that for me…"

"I wanted to make you feel happier."

"You did."

"And if there_ is_ an afterlife?"

"I sort of think there is, Tony… and if there is, then Kim's there… and he's got our son… and he loves my girls too… I've got a family waiting for me… that's good."

"Yeah, that's good," he agreed.

Joanna was silent for a while, and then she said, "D'you know what I'd like, right now?"

"Chocolate?" he made a half-hearted attempt to tease.

"That'd be nice… no… I want you to hold me against your chest… against your heart, like you did that night."

"I might hurt you!"

"Don't think so… come on, Tony, give a girl a break… Seth…" Jo turned her head towards her old friend. "Tell him to do as he's told."

"You heard the lady, son."

"O…K…" Tony eased himself up onto the bed, and snaked his left arm carefully under her shoulders. He wriggled himself over to her, rather than trying to pull her to him. It took some doing, but in the end, he had her head safely on his breast, and she was smiling happily up at him. "Told ya!"

"So you did," he whispered, "so you did." He lay against her pillows, stroking her hair, as Seth stroked her other hand. After a while, she muttered, "Sleepy…"

"You sleep then, your pillow's going nowhere."

"Thanks…" she grinned at him and closed her eyes, and after a few minutes her breathing evened out. Tony lay there and didn't dare move. He watched her sleep for a while, he had no idea how long, and then she moved her head, and said quite clearly, "Kim…"

She took maybe three or four more breaths, and then quietly stopped. Seth laid his head down on her hand. Tony held her tightly, and wept with him.

----------------------

Ziva put both arms round him to guide him back to her car. When they were both inside, she pulled a rug from the back seat and wrapped it round him. He looked at her beautiful face, all planes and shadows in the car park lights, and choked out, "Thanks."

"You are welcome, Tony."

He didn't speak after that, and she made no attempt to coax him. She could only guess at his thoughts, and would not intrude.

The lights on the freeway whipped by, and the mean little Cooper S flew through the night, buzzing like a hornet. "I owe her for her kindness," Tony thought. "She didn't need to do this. I don't even know if she even considers herself my friend any more. I had my chance… I let it go.

"And Joanna… maybe I shouldn't have let her go… maybe I had my chance there too… maybe I_ could_ have saved her… _That's irrational and you know it_," the other half of his mind reproved him. He stole a sideways glance at Ziva. "Joanna was right… what a klutz I am. Can't get anything right." He sighed softly, as his eyes filled with tears again. "Didn't get it right with you, Jo… Didn't get it right with Ziva either…" He sighed again, this time loudly enough for Ziva to hear him. She looked at him anxiously, and he looked back miserably.

"It's too late," he told her solemnly. "It's too late."

The End

**AN: Done, then. Genevra was right, it's been cathartic… don't know if I had the right to make other people miserable as well though… apologies.**


End file.
